


Saints and Sinners

by AlElizabeth



Series: Weary Saints [3]
Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6866518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlElizabeth/pseuds/AlElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Here There Be Monsters and Soft Come The Dragons. Sam and Dean's survival following the events of "Slash Fiction" (S. 7, E.6) are revealed and a team from the BAU is assigned to capture them. Hotchner and his team fight to clear the Winchesters' names and free them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dead To The World

Life is a cheap thing beside a man's work- Ernest Hemingway

Dean glanced down at his brother lying on the motel bed and then checked his watch.

Sam had been sleeping for exactly seven minutes and thirty-two seconds.

The older Winchester smiled. It was very rare these days for his sibling to get even a few minutes of uninterrupted rest ever since his nightmares and hallucinations had become more frequent and worse.

Dean sat down on the end of his bed and grabbed a worn paperback novel the previous guest had left in the drawer beside the Gideon Bible. Mouth curling up to one side at the sight of the hunk on the front cover dressed in a black leather jacket, dark shades, big gun over his shoulder and big bike between his legs, Dean started reading; a quiet activity that wouldn't wake his brother unnecessarily.

The hunter had barely finished the first page when a sudden loud bang startled him- the sound of a car backfiring on the road beyond the motel- and he instantly looked to his brother.

Sam, now awake sat up and raked his bangs back from his brow with one hand.

"Go back to sleep," Dean said, "You weren't even asleep ten minutes."

The younger Winchester shook his head, trying to surreptitiously peer over his shoulder.

"What are seeing?" Dean asked instantly.

"Nothing," his brother muttered and stood.

Lucifer was lying on his side on the bed, a smile on his face, "Aw Sammy, I thought you wanted to take a nap."

"I need to get some fresh air," the younger Winchester said and picked up his jacket from on top of his duffle bag.

"You sure?" Dean asked, his expression worried.

"Yeah," Sam muttered, "Just… Just give me a few minutes, okay?"

Dean nodded, "Okay, stay close by. And bring your phone."

"I will," Sam promised and slipped his jacket on, wincing at the pain in his right shoulder from where the Leviathan had bitten him. Patting one of the pockets he confirmed his cell phone was inside.

Taking a deep breath, Sam pulled open the door to the motel room and stepped outside.

After closing the door he remained where he was on the sidewalk, not sure where he wanted to go. He wasn't about to stroll down the sidewalk, especially not with Lucifer tagging along, when he spotted the wooded area behind the motel. Although not much of an outdoorsman, he had joined a hiking club back in college if only to help keep physically fit and he didn't really mind the woods, as long as he wasn't hunting wendigos or werewolves or anything like that.

Stepping off the sidewalk, Sam quickly crossed the parking lot, head down and hands stuffed into his pockets.

Once in the woods, the sounds of civilization- cars, sirens, and human voices- dropped away and the only noises were the rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds and the clicking of insects.

"How long are you going to ignore me this time, Sammy?" Lucifer asked, matching the young man's pace as he walked.

The hunter stared straight ahead, refusing to give his companion the satisfaction of an answer.

"Sam, don't ignore me."

Sam still didn't answer.

"You know I don't like to be ignored."

The hunter picked up his pace, knowing he wouldn't be able to outrun the hallucination but he didn't care.

"Sam," Lucifer said, warningly.

The hunter began to run, not even looking where he was going, he didn't care, he just needed to get away.

Tree branches whipped at his face, roots threatened to trip him, but Sam didn't stop until his lungs were heaving for air and his heart was pounding. Sweat was beaded on his face, dripping off his chin.

Sam closed his eyes and leaned over, trying to catch his breath.

"Sam."

Of course he hadn't been able to outrun Lucifer.

Opening his eyes, the hunter wiped his face with his sleeve, his eyes widening at the sight of blood smeared across his jacket.

"It's not real," he muttered, "It's not real."

"Sam," Lucifer's voice repeated, now from right behind him, "I told you not to ignore me."

The hunter turned around to face the Devil and frowned when he saw nothing.

Sam counted to five in his head and when nothing happened he relaxed a little and started heading back the way he had come, relieved that Lucifer was gone again for the time being.

SPN

Dean looked up and couldn't help the smile that crossed his face when the door opened and his brother stepped inside.

"How was the walk?" he asked and Sam shrugged, slipping his jacket off and dropping it onto his duffel.

"I was thinking about dinner," Dean continued, "Did you want anything?"

"Whatever you get, Dean," Sam replied and sat down on the edge of his bed.

Reaching up, the younger man rubbed at his right shoulder.

"Do you want something? I think we still have Tylenol 3's."

Sam shook his head, "I'll be fine."

"Okay," Dean muttered, "Chinese sound good?"

The younger Winchester nodded, "Sure."

As the older hunter started dialing the number of a Chinese restaurant nearby, Sam sighed and glanced around the room, spotting the paperback on his brother's bed, laying open so Dean wouldn't lose his page. Reaching out, Sam picked up the book and smirked at the picture on the cover.

"Maximum Conquest?" Sam asked, "What is this?"

Dean turned to his brother, "Hey! Don't lose my page, okay?"

The younger Winchester smiled and put the book back where he'd found it.

Once Dean was finished ordering the food he sat down on the end his bed and turned on the television.

"Food should be here in half-an-hour," Dean said as he channel surfed.

The brothers lapsed into silence as they watched the television, both lost in his own thoughts.

W

"Sammy-" Dean began but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Standing, the elder Winchester met the delivery guy and paid for the food.

"Thanks," Dean said.

"You have a good night," the guy- an elderly Chinese man who spoke perfect English- said and dipped his head.

"You too," the hunter muttered and closed and locked the door; dumping the brown paper bag the food came in onto his bed.

Sitting down, Dean began pulling out Styrofoam containers.

"How much food did you get?" Sam asked.

"There's nothing wrong with leftovers," Dean replied, "Besides, I feel like I could eat a horse."

Grabbing a plastic fork from the inside of the bag, the elder Winchester picked up a container of Lo Mein noodles and began noisily slurping them up.

"Sam," Dean said, noodles hanging from his mouth, "You've gotta eat something. There's beef and broccoli, Spring rolls, hell, I even got something with tofu in it just for you. Have something, man."

The young Winchester reached out and picked up the container of beef and broccoli and a fork.

Dean knew Sam didn't feel much like eating most of the time but he had an idea that not eating only made the nightmares and hallucinations worse if only because his brother didn't have the strength needed to fight them.

After a few minutes passed, Dean spoke again.

"This is good, right?" he said and Sam nodded, spearing a broccoli floret on his fork.

The brothers ate their food in silence for a few minutes before Dean turned to the television and found a re-run of 'COPS' for them to watch. Both Sam and Dean relaxed a bit and allowed themselves to be drawn into the show, forgetting their problems if only for a short time.

SPN

"This is so good, Dave," JJ complimented Rossi and the older Agent smiled.

"Thank you," he said.

"We need to come here for dinner more often," Morgan announced as he put a piece of Rossi's Chicken Parmesan into his mouth and chewed with exaggerated glee.

The team was taking a rare and well-deserved break, relaxing in Rossi's backyard while the weather remained nice. It had been a challenging week and the cases difficult but now with the chance to refresh themselves, the team felt as though they'd be able to go back into the BAU on Monday recharged and ready to apply themselves to their work again.

"Have some more wine," Rossi said and poured more of the alcohol into JJ's glass.

"Okay," she shook her head, laughing, placing her hand over her glass, "That's enough."

"You can hit me up," Morgan told Rossi, reaching out his wineglass to the senior agent.

"You're pretty quiet, Reid. Is everything all right?" Prentiss asked the young doctor and the agent nodded.

"No, it's not," Morgan argued, "You're not thinking about Lamb are you?"

Agent Hotchner looked up and frowned.

"You shouldn't listen to him, Kid," Morgan told his young friend, "He's just an asshole."

Reid sighed, picking at his chicken restlessly.

"Reid," Hotchner drew the younger agent's attention to him, "What Lamb's can be considered harassment. You should go to Strauss if it's really getting to you."

The doctor shook his head, "I'm okay, really."

"Well if you won't go to Strauss," Penelope Garcia interrupted, "I will. No one picks on my team members."

"No, really," Reid insisted, "It was just a stupid comment."

"Okay, Kid," Morgan muttered, his thoughts now turning to Agent Carter Lamb.

"I can't believe he hasn't been called into Strauss' office for workplace harassment before," JJ said, shaking her head.

"That's because he's hardly ever at Quantico," Prentiss told her, "He's always out with his team on cases."

"And I thought we barely got to see our desks," Rossi snorted, "I hear he does his paperwork on the go and mails it to Quantico."

JJ raised an eyebrow and took a sip of wine.

"He thinks he untouchable just because he has a great track record," Morgan said, "Thinks that makes him hot shit."

"Maybe it's a good thing he's rarely at Quantico," Penelope added, "That man gives me the heebie-jeebies."

"Even more so than Agent Valente?" Rossi asked.

"Who's still AWOL," Morgan said, "Has anyone heard from him at all?"

Hotchner shook his head.

"Weird," JJ commented, "It's like he just disappeared."

"You don't think it has anything to do with… you know who, do you?" Penelope asked.

"If Sam and Dean knew about him, I'm sure they'd let us know," Morgan told her.

After a moment's silence, Rossi spoke up again.

"Who's ready for some Tiramisu?"

"Oh Dave, you didn't have to make dessert too," JJ said but the older agent just smiled, "I enjoy cooking. And I enjoy cooking for all of you. It's not often we can share a meal so why not take advantage of it while we can?"

While the senior agent went inside to get the dessert, his teammates talked about anything but work, knowing that all too soon they would be back on a case.

SPN

"No… No… Please…"

Dean woke up instantly at the sound of his brother's voice and rolled over, stood up and crossed the short distance to his brother's bed.

"Sam," he reached out and put a gentle hand on his sibling's shoulder, "Sammy."

"No… Please… Not again…"

"SAM," Dean said with more force and his brother flinched.

"C'mon Sammy, wake up man," Dean shook his sibling's shoulder slightly and breathed a sigh of relief when Sam's eyes opened.

Sitting up, the younger Winchester took a moment to gather his bearings.

"You with me?" Dean asked and Sam nodded, "Yeah… Yeah, I'm okay now."

"Wanna watch some TV?" Dean asked.

His brother glanced at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand between the two beds, "It's the middle of the night."

The older Winchester shrugged, "So? You feel like going back to sleep?"

Sam shook his head, "No… I don't think I can."

"So we might as well entertain ourselves," Dean said and grabbed the remote and turned on the television.

"With what? Infomercials?" Sam yawned.

Dean smiled, "Didn't you once say it was riveting TV?"

Sam smirked and sat back against the headboard of his bed, gazing at the television as though he were afraid to look anywhere else in the room.

Dean sighed and lay down on his back, fascinated by a woman who claimed this new kitchen gadget she was holding could cook foods without heat.

SPN

"You're here early," JJ said to Reid as she set her purse down on desk.

"I had some paperwork I needed to catch up on," the young doctor said.

"Don't we all?" the blonde commented and smiled.

"I was going to get a coffee; do you want one?" JJ asked.

"Please," Reid nodded before turning his attention back to the pile of paperwork he'd been avoiding.

W

Reid looked up as Agent Lamb walked into the bullpen, a smug look on his face. The man always looked as though he had just won a jackpot and was going to have fun making others watch him spend it. Penelope thought he looked and sounded like the actor Christian Slater but Reid didn't know whom that was. All he knew what the moment he'd started at the BAU, Agent Lamb had had something against him. He hadn't even done anything to the man and Lamb was always nearby it seemed with some nasty comment to point in his direction. Morgan thought it was because Reid was so well educated and had a doctorate and Lamb didn't.

Whatever it was that continued to fuel this petty hate the other agent harboured for Reid, it had long ago become tiring.

"Don't even look at him," Rossi whispered.

"Why does he always look like the cat that ate the canary?" JJ asked and Morgan shrugged.

"Maybe he just has Short Man's Disease," he joked.

A few other agents had also looked up at Lamb's approach. The man held a nondescript folder in his hands; he was clearly on his way to one of the boardrooms.

"Another case, Carter?" Rossi called out, "Didn't you just get back last night?"

"Evil never sleeps," Lamb replied, holding the folder high, "You should know that."

"What's it this time?" Morgan asked, "The suspense is killing me."

The agent grinned toothily.

"The Winchester brothers were spotted just hours ago," Lamb announced and Reid, who was taking a drink of coffee, began to choke on the beverage.

Morgan, who was sitting on Reid's desk, reached out and pounded on his friend's back.

"The Winchesters are dead," Rossi said, deadpan.

"Not according to witness testimony," Lamb said, "They are alive and well and in our own backyard."

"Oh shit," Morgan whispered.

"And Strauss picked you to capture them?" Rossi asked.

"Capture them," Lamb said, hands raised; "Kill them. As long as they are stopped."

"Perfect," Rossi said with a sigh.

"Why? Are you jealous?" Lamb asked and continued on towards the boardroom.

Once he was out of earshot JJ leaned towards her team members, "We have to tell Hotch."

"What's he gonna do?" Morgan asked, "Tell Strauss she made a mistake? Everyone think they're mass murderers, remember?"

"Lamb won't kill them, would he?" Reid asked, his expression worried.

His friends didn't answer. Carter Lamb was known in the BAU and the FBI in general as trigger-happy; the kind of guy to shoot first and ask questions later.

"He won't if Sam and Dean cooperate," Rossi assured him.

"We have to warn them," JJ said.

"We can't," Morgan argued, "If I call Dean and then Lamb's tech analyst goes through his phone they'll see I was talking to him."

"Right," JJ admitted sadly, "But we have to do something."

"We'll talk to Hotch and see what he thinks," Morgan said.

"Hey! Whoa, did someone die?" Prentiss walked up to her teammates and stared at their faces, feeling a sliver of unease slip down her spine.

"Not quite," Rossi commented, "C'mon, we all need to see Hotch."

Prentiss followed the others, confused and worried, up to Aaron's office. She just knew nothing good would come of a meeting in their team leader's private office.


	2. Bat Country

Dean groaned and opened his eyes, blinking owlishly.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Seven-thirty," Sam answered.

Dean groaned again and sat up, raking a hand through his hair.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked Sam as he stood and grabbed some clothes from his duffel bag, "The last thing I remember is watching Vince trying to sell those ShamWow things."

Sam smiled slightly, "I've been awake for a while."

Dean peered at his brother but Sam wouldn't say exactly how long he'd been awake. Dean decided he'd rather not know anyway.

"I'll be out in a few minutes," he told his brother and stepped into the bathroom to take a shower.

SPN

Sam sat on the end of his bed, eyes closed, thumb pressed into the scar on his left hand even though he knew it wouldn't work.

"Still gnawing on that bone, are you Sam?" Lucifer's voice whispered in his ear, "You know that doesn't work so why do you still try it?"

"Go away," the hunter pleaded, "Just go away."

"Sam," Lucifer said, "Sam."

"SAM!" Dean said sharply and the younger man looked up, lowering his hands.

"Shower's free," Dean told him as he stepped out of the bathroom, eyeing his brother.

Sam stood quickly and grabbed his duffel bag, stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door.

The hunter gripped the edge of the counter and peered at his reflection for a moment. He hoped he didn't look as bad as he thought he did, with bruised-looking eyes, pale skin, and greasy hair. It's not that bad, Sam told himself, I don't look that bad.

Unzipping his duffel, Sam found his toothbrush and toothpaste and began his morning hygiene ritual.

He'd stopped taking showers almost entirely because he just couldn't force himself to stand stark naked in that small space with Lucifer hanging around. Lifting his left arm- because it was still difficult to raise his right over his head- his sniffed and decided that he smelled all right.

Digging some clothes out of his bag, Sam dressed for the day, taking one last look at his reflection in the mirror.

The hunter jumped back when the glass suddenly cracked as though a heavy object had hit it. Sam stared at a few sharp shards glittering in the sink before taking a deep breath and pulling the door open.

"You ready to go?" Dean asked, slipping 'Maximum Conquest'into his duffel bag.

Sam looked at his sibling quizzically.

"I was thinking we get some breakfast and then blow this popsicle stand," the older Winchester suggested; they never stayed in one place for too long anymore, even when they weren't working a case they usually stayed in a single motel for two or three days at the most, well aware that the Leviathans were still out there and were still after them.

Sam nodded, "Sounds good."

Keeping his duffel bag with him, Sam pulled on his boots and slipped on his jacket, following his brother out the door.

The brothers paused to put their bags in the trunk of their most recently 'borrowed' car, a cherry-red Toyota Yaris- that Sam loathed- before heading down the sidewalk to a nearby strip mall.

W

The brothers stepped into a nondescript diner that boasted a breakfast menu and found a booth at the back of the restaurant.

Sam sat down across from his brother as usual, Lucifer squeezing into the seat beside him.

A waitress appeared moments later, menus tucked under one arm because she held a pot of coffee with the other. Her uniform revealed a startling amount of cleavage; her small silver nametag read 'BRENDA'.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked in a perky voice.

"I'll have some of that," Dean answered, pointing to the coffee pot. The waitress smiled at him and flipped over the white mug sitting on the table in front of him.

"How about you?" she asked, turning to Sam.

"You should get some coffee too, Sammy," Lucifer said, "It'll help you stay awake."

"Just coffee," the hunter replied.

"I'll give you two a few minutes to decide what you want," she told them and left the brothers, practically skipping away.

Dean watched her walk away, a little smile on his face as he did so.

"Dean, you're supposed to be looking at the menu," Sam told him and the other man rolled his eyes.

"Spoil sport," Dean muttered but picked up his menu anyway.

"What are you going to get?" the elder Winchester asked, not giving Sam the choice of not ordering something to eat.

Sam peered at his menu without really seeing it, and answered automatically, "Probably pancakes."

Beside him, Lucifer groaned sounding like a petulant child, "Pancakes? You always order pancakes! Why can't you eat bacon like a normal person?"

Even the thought of bacon was enough to curdle Sam's stomach some days so he stayed very clear of it, lest he tempt memories of Hell to surface. Not that he had much control these days of what surfaced but he wasn't about to tempt fate.

Brenda the Waitress returned, "Have you decided what you're going to order?"

"Bacon," Lucifer chimed in, smiling wolfishly at the girl, clearly staring at her bust.

"Pancakes," Sam told her and she nodded, writing the order down her notepad.

She turned to look at Dean.

"Can I get two fried eggs with home fries, sausage and white toast?"

"Sure thing," Brenda said and refilled the Winchesters' coffee mugs before leaving to place their orders.

Dean took a drink of coffee and sat back, scanning the restaurant behind his brother.

Sam shifted in his seat, drawing his brother's attention.

"You okay?"

The younger man shrugged, "Yeah, fine."

"Maybe we need to go somewhere nice," Dean said, "You know, some place with room service and bellhops and the good Pay Per View movies on the TV."

Sam frowned, "You mean go on a vacation?"

"Yeah," Dean said, leaning forward, "I mean, why not. We both deserve it."

Sam frowned, "But the Leviathans are still out there, Dean."

His brother nodded, "Yeah, but we have heard diddly-squat from Dick in weeks. If he still plans on making human Happy Meals, he's keeping it pretty low-key. Even Frank hasn't called in a while with one of his crack-pot theories."

Sam's expression was skeptical. He didn't really like the idea of going on a holiday when there were monsters at large and people were dying.

"People are always dying, Sam," Lucifer put in his two cents, "It's a fact of life and you taking a break isn't going to change that."

Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, Sam shook his head, "I don't know, Dean. It just doesn't seem right."

"Don't give me that, Sam," Dean argued, "You of all people deserve a bit of a break."

Sam peered at his brother, his eyes a little moist.

"Listen to big brother, Sammy," Lucifer commented, "He is right sometimes."

"We won't be gone forever," Dean assured him, "A week tops. Just to relax and forget about everyone getting turned into hamburger meat for a while."

The expression on Dean's face said it all: I can see you cracking up, Sammy. I know you're barely hanging on and I can't stand by and watch your descent into madness anymore.

"Okay," Sam agreed, "Maybe a break will do me good."

From beside him Lucifer snorted laughter but Sam ignored him.

Brenda appearing with breakfast interrupted further conversation.

"Pancakes for you," she sat the plate down in front of Sam, "And eggs for you."

"Thank you, Brenda," Dean said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Do you need more coffee?" she asked and Dean nodded, "I'll be right back with that. Anything else? Hot sauce or steak sauce?"

"How about some hot sauce?" Dean asked and Brenda smiled, "I get that for you right away."

Sam picked up the small metal pitcher of maple syrup Brenda had brought along with their meals and poured a generous helping on top of his pancakes. Lucifer sat with his arms crossed, eyeing the pancakes as though they'd personally offended him.

"Here's the hot sauce for you," Brenda said, handing Dean a bottle of 'Texas Pete', and then topped up both Winchesters' coffee mugs.

Once the waitress was gone, Dean took the cap off the hot sauce and shook the bottle over his breakfast, splattering everything with spots and streaks of bright red.

Sam watched his brother in silence, feeling his gorge rise, as Dean's breakfast seemed to assault his senses: the sulfurous scent of the fried eggs, the glisten of the skin on the sausage, the black crust on some of the home fries, the crimson splashes of sauce on top of everything.

The hunter sat back and swallowed heavily.

"Sam, you okay? You look a little green," Dean asked, stabbing one of the eggs, allowing yellow yolk to seep through.

"Yeah," Sam swallowed again and peered down at his pancakes, "I'm fine. Just need to eat something."

Forcing his gaze to remain on his own breakfast, Sam cut off a large square of pancake and shoved it into his mouth. Lucifer chuckled from beside him and the smell of sulfur and cooked meat seemed to grow even stronger.

Don't think about it, Sam told himself; he's just trying to mess with you.

But all the same the hunter felt his gorge rise and he had to force himself to swallow the pancake in his mouth.

Without taking another bite, Sam pushed his plate away and drained his coffee mug in three long gulps.

Dean, chewing his food, stared at him.

Sam didn't say anything and crossed his arms over his chest, pressing down on the scar on his palm below the table so his brother wouldn't see.

SPN

Dean pulled out his wallet and set some bills down on the table, making sure to give busty Brenda a generous tip.

"Do you want a container for that?" the waitress asked as she returned for the money, pointing to Sam's pancakes, now nothing more than mush in a puddle of congealing syrup.

Sam shook his head.

"Okay, have a good day," Brenda said and took the money, leaving the brothers.

"Lets get out of here," Dean said and stood, more than ready to get out of town and find somewhere to hole-up for a week and play hooky.

The brothers exited the diner and started down the sidewalk, enjoying the warm weather. Or at least Dean was enjoying the weather. Sam's eyes were darting around like he expected ninjas to jump out at them from behind every parking meter.

Reaching out, Dean put an arm around his brother's shoulders, comforting.

"I'm right here, Sammy," he murmured, "I won't let anything happen to you."

The younger man nodded and sighed. Dean withdrew his arm, wishing he could do more to help his sibling than a few comforting words and gestures.

It didn't take long to get back to the motel.

"Hold on a minute," Dean said and unlocked the door to their room, "I've gotta hit the head."

Sam entered the room after his brother and sat down on the bed closest to the door to wait, giving the room an once-over to make sure he hadn't left anything.

After a few minutes, Dean exited the bathroom, "You have to go?"

Sam shook his head and stood. Dean looked up and frowned at a sudden commotion outside; skidding tires, slamming doors, hurried footsteps.

Turning to his brother, the elder Winchester saw that Sam's expression hadn't changed as though he hadn't even heard.

"SAM AND DEAN WINCHESTER!" a slightly nasal voice drawled loudly through a megaphone, "THIS IS THE FBI! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"

Now Sam turned to stare at Dean, "Did you hear that?"

"Of course I did," Dean hissed, his heart skipping a beat.

For a moment his brain suggested that it was Aaron Hotchner's team playing a joke.

"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP NIGHT OR WE WILL SHOOT!"

But the Supervisory Special Agent didn't seem like the joking type.

Taking a deep breath, Dean reached out and grabbed his sibling's arm by the elbow, "C'mon Sammy."

The younger man stared at him, wide-eyed.

"I don't think this is a prank," Dean said and he saw his brother swallow visibly.

"Just do what they say, okay?" Dean told his sibling, even though Sam knew that, "And we'll get through this."

Sam nodded, "Okay Dean, I trust you."

Dean approached the door and opened it, making sure his hands were visible.

"EXIT THE ROOM SLOWLY," the short man with the megaphone instructed.

Dean, moving only his eyes, took in the collection of FBI agents, local cops and a SWAT team van all parked in a semi-circle in the parking lot, boxing in the area where their room was.

"SLOWLY," the agent with the megaphone said, as Dean stepped out of the room and onto the sidewalk.

"KEEP MOVING FORWARD. SLOWLY."

Dean did as he was asked, not daring to look behind him for his brother but certain Sam was close by. He moved off the sidewalk and onto the asphalt, walking carefully between cars into the open space where they normally would drive.

"THAT'S FAR ENOUGH," the agent said and Dean instantly stopped walking, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't see any familiar face in the crowd of people before him and that only added to his anxiety. This wasn't good, this wasn't good at all. He had no idea whether it was really the Federal Bureau of Investigation standing before him now or Dick Roman's Leviathans playing dress-up but either way he didn't see a quick way out of this situation.

"GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES," the agent told him, "SLOWLY."

Dean dropped to his knees as slowly as possible, all too aware of the multiple guns pointed at him.

The short agent set the megaphone down on top of a police car and stepped forward, unclipping a pair of handcuffs from his belt as he moved quickly towards the hunter.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," the agent told Dean and the hunter allowed the man to tug his hands behind his back and cuff him. With one hand on Dean's arm, the agent helped him to his feet and started marching him towards the waiting cars.

Dean looked over his shoulder to see a mountain of a man in an FBI vest handcuffing his brother, hauling Sam roughly to his feet. The younger Winchester let out a cry of pain as his right shoulder was wrenched.

"Don't hurt him!" Dean snapped as the agent holding him opened the door of a squad car and started pushing him into it.

"Sam!" Dean shouted right before the car door was slammed shut in his face.

The younger Winchester was staggering a little, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face and Dean prayed he wasn't about to have one of his 'zoning out' episodes.

Dean watched as his brother was shoved into the back of a second police car and the assembled men and women meant to protect and serve- from local cops to Feds and SWAT team members- quickly went their separate ways.

A female townie cop climbed into the driver's seat of the car Dean was in and started the engine. Dean twisted in his seat, desperate to keep an eye on the cruiser his brother was in, his heart pounding in his chest and his mind reeling.

SPN

"We can't let this happen," Prentiss said as soon as the rest of the team had finished explaining what Lamb had said.

"I agree," Hotch said, his expression grave.

"Could we go to Strauss? She's has enough weight she'll be able to stop Lamb," Penelope suggested.

"And tell her what exactly, Baby Girl? That the FBI made a mistake and that Sam and Dean are innocent? Remember, we have pretty damning footage of them shooting up a bank and a diner," Morgan growled angrily.

"I just thought…" Garcia muttered.

"There has to be a way to prove Sam and Dean didn't commit those crimes," JJ suggested, "Maybe on the films? There has to be a way to tell that those two Leviathans aren't the Winchesters."

Garcia perked up, "I can get copies of the footage, easy."

Hotch nodded, "Let's start with that. Garcia and Reid I want you to watch those and look for anything that can put Sam and Dean some place else."

"JJ and Prentiss," he continued, "Will you go over their files? See if there's anything useful in them and refresh your memories of the crimes."

"What about us?" Morgan asked, indicating himself, Rossi and Hotch.

"We're going to have to make sure no one knows what we're doing," the team leader said, "And if we get a call for a case, it'll be our responsibility."

Morgan nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'll go get those videos," Garcia said and left the office; watching her from the window, Morgan noticed she was trying very hard not to run down the hallway.

"We'll go look over the case files," JJ and Prentiss stood and slipped from the room, heads together as they walked after Garcia.

Rossi sighed, "How did this happen? Surely the boys know to be careful in public?"

"I don't know," Hotch said, "But I'm sure Carter will tell us."

Morgan sneered, "That son of a bitch."

"Derek," Hotch warned him, "He's just doing his job."

"You okay, Kid?" Morgan asked, ignoring the senior agent.

Spencer didn't move, "They'll be okay, right? Lamb won't shoot them?"

"I think normally he wouldn't care," Rossi said, "But this being Sam and Dean Winchester, it'd be an ego boost if he brought them in alive."

Morgan snorted and turned his gaze back to the window as Garcia stepped back into the room, holding one of her many laptop computers.

"Lamb's back," she said, "They're here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from an Avenged Sevenfold song.
> 
> Please take a moment to leave Kudos or a Comment if you like the story.


	3. The Outlaw Torn

Dean sat on the low, metal-framed bed in his cell looking to the world as cool as though he were sitting in his own living room.

Back resting against the cinderblock wall behind him, right ankle sitting atop left thigh, Dean oozed calm and confidence.

He had been arrested before but he'd always managed to escape in those situations, albeit sometimes as a result of dumb luck, and so he looked at this as the exact same. Not only was he counting on the small amount of luck which always seemed allow Sam and him to squeak out of the grasp of the police, but now that they actually had friends on the inside who would do everything possible to help them out.

The only thing Dean was truly concerned about was his brother and his tenuous hold on reality. He was terrified of Sam having an 'episode' in front of one of the FBI agents. If that happened, Dean had no doubts that they'd lock his brother up in some nuthouse and throw away the key. But he had no idea what to do; the agents had put him and Sam at opposite ends of the holding area. There was no way Dean couldn't see his brother, much less hear him. So, if some memory of Hell flared up…

Just hang in there, Sammy; Dean thought silently, directed towards his brother as though they could communicate by Winchester telepathy; we'll get out of his mess soon, just hang on.

SPN

Sam sat on the low, metal-framed bed in his cell looking to the world like a man on the day of his execution. Feet planted firmly on the cement floor, hands clasped tightly between his thighs, head lowered so that his hair screened his face, back curved as though under an immense weight, the younger Winchester was struggling to keep control.

Lucifer was leaning against the bars on the other side of the room, ankles and arms crossed casually.

The hunter's body thrummed with so much tension he was trembling. He didn't know where the Feds had put his brother, having separated them upon entering the holding area, but Sam feared that without Dean nearby, he wouldn't be able to maintain his grip on reality for long.

Sam opened his hands and jammed his thumb into the scar on his left hand, gritting his teeth as he did so. From across the cell, the hunter heard the Devil give an exaggerated sigh but he did his best to ignore it.

You're not real; he thought desperately, you're not real, not real, not real…

"You know what this reminds me of, Sammy?" Lucifer asked, "The bars, the close quarters, why it's just like the Cage, isn't it?"

Sam clenched his jaw so tightly the muscles spasmed. He pressed down even harder on his hand, willing the hallucination to disappear.

"Why don't we do something fun while we wait?" Lucifer asked, his voice closer now.

"No!" Sam gasped and spread his hands, an idea suddenly coming to him.

Reaching up with his left hand, the hunter gripped his right shoulder and dug his fingers into the still-healing flesh. Pain raced down the limb and Sam groaned. Lifting his head, his eyes widened when he saw that Lucifer was gone. He was alone.

A sob escaped the hunter's throat and he fell back against the cinderblock wall, relief washing over him.

SPN

"Find anything useful?" Morgan came up behind Garcia and Reid, the two of them focused on the laptop screen before them.

"Not yet," Garcia said quietly.

"We've watched these a dozen times and can't find anything," Reid turned in his seat to look at his friend, "The Leviathans are just too good. They look just like the Winchesters."

Morgan sighed and peered at the screen between his two team members.

"Maybe it's not proving those two aren't Sam and Dean that'll help them," he suggested, "Maybe it's proving they were somewhere else when the murders took place."

Garica paused the footage and looked to the dark-skinned agent.

"Why didn't we think of that?" she asked, but smiled.

"If we can prove, definitively, that Dean and Sam were seen somewhere else at the time of these crimes," Garcia continued, "Then we might be able to prove they are innocent."

"To find out where Sam and Dean were when these Leviathans killed those people," Reid said, "We need to talk to them. Do you think Lamb would let us?"

"He might let Rossi or Hotch," Morgan replied slowly, "But I wouldn't count on it."

Reid wilted a little.

"Don't worry about it, Kid. Even Lamb has to take a break," Morgan assured him, "And when he does, we'll get our chance."

The young doctor nodded, "I just hope you're right, Morgan."

The older agent turned serious, "It's the best hope we have right now."

"I'm gonna check in with Hotch," he continued, "You may as well put that away, it won't help."

Garcia nodded and pushed the eject button on her laptop, slipping the CD out on which the footage had been copied.

Leaving the two other agents, Morgan made his way back to his team leader's office. He hoped he was right. If they could find out where Sam and Dean were when the Leviathans had killed all those people, if they could find and interview witnesses to prove the Winchesters were not at the bank or the diner, then they could have a chance in claiming that the brothers had been set up.

SPN

Supervisor Special Agent Carter Lamb sat down behind the desk in his little-used office and stared at the other members of his team.

"We did it," Lamb announced, "The Winchesters are finally in FBI custody. Give yourselves a pat on the back."

No one moved. The other members of Lamb's team knew that when he said 'we' he really meant 'I'.

Agent Fan, the only woman on Lamb's team, cleared her throat.

"How long do you want to wait before interviewing the Winchesters? You know you can't wait too long-"

Lamb leaned forward in his chair and interrupted her, "Dean Winchester. I want to interview Dean Winchester. He's the mastermind behind all of their crimes."

Agent Clayton, the mountainous agent who had arrested Sam, spoke up, "What about Sam Winchester? You should be interviewing both of them."

Lamb scowled, "Sam Winchester? From what I hear he's retarded or autistic or something and just does what his brother tells him to do. Every serial killer team has to have a dominant and a submissive partner, Clayton, and Sam Winchester is definitely the submissive one in this relationship."

"But Carter, you still need to get statements from both brothers," Peterson, the final member of the team spoke up.

Lamb sighed heavily, "Fine, if it'll keep Strauss happy, I'll interview the younger brother too."

"When were you planning on interviewing them?" Fan asked again.

"Jesus!" Lamb snapped, "In the morning! Let them stew for a bit. There's no hurry, it isn't like they're going anywhere."

"What are you all still doing here? Don't you have paperwork to do?" Lamb asked and the three other members of his team left the office, each wishing they hadn't been saddled with the arrogant agent and each secretly planning on handing Request For Transfer forms to Strauss once this case was wrapped up and the Winchesters were safe and sound in some maximum security penitentiary and no longer their problem.

W

Alone in his office, Carter Lamb opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a large cigar. Tearing off the plastic wrapping, the agent brought the cigar to his nose and took a long whiff of its pungent aroma.

"Ahhh," he sighed and placed his feet up on the desk, grabbing a lighter from the same drawer he'd obtained the cigar from and thumbed the wheel, "Here's to me."

Lighting the end of the cigar and blowing out the small flame, Lamb stuck the end of it in his mouth and tossed the lighter on the desk. Leaning back, with his hands behind his head, the agent puffed away at the cigar, feeling mighty proud of himself for capturing the Winchester brothers.

SPN

Reid bade a weary goodbye to his team members as one by one they left the building, heading home for the night. Hotch was the last one to head home since Jessica was watching Jack for him. The team leader stopped by the doctor's desk and peered concernedly at the young man.

"Why don't you head home? You can't do anymore tonight," Aaron asked but Reid shook his head.

"I can't," the doctor argued, "I'm worried that Sam might have one of those episodes like before and he, well, he might need help."

Aaron nodded, "I understand, Reid."

Reid knew there wouldn't be much he could do to help Sam if he did start having an episode; he wasn't Dean and he wasn't a medical doctor, he probably wouldn't even know it was happening sitting at his desk in the bullpen, but that didn't squash the feeling that he needed to stay the night.

"We'll help them, Reid," Aaron told him, laying a hand on the younger man's shoulder, "We'll prove Sam and Dean are innocent."

The doctor nodded his head and turned to peer at Agent Lamb's office across the catwalk from Hotch's. The light was still on and the blinds were opened halfway, indicating the man was still inside.

"You should go," Reid said, "Spend some time with Jack."

"See you tomorrow," Aaron said and left Reid, walking towards the elevators.

The young doctor waited until his team leader had gotten onto one of the elevators before quickly looking back to Lamb's office.

He had no idea why the man was still in his office but it didn't matter. As long as Lamb stayed there, Reid didn't really care.

Standing up, the doctor cast one last glance over his shoulder before heading towards the elevators.

Pressing the button, Reid waited on pins and needles for the lift to arrive. Once it did and the doors open, the doctor stepped inside quickly and pressed the button to one of the lower levels where suspected criminals were held.

If he could speak to Sam and Dean and get some idea of where they were at the time of the bank and diner massacres then they may have a chance of finding witnesses to put the brothers elsewhere while the real killers were doing their grisly work.

Reid knew Morgan had suggested they wait until Agent Lamb had gone home for the night but the doctor had a sneaking suspicion the man was going to haunt the building until he saw Sam and Dean convicted and locked away for good.

Besides, the sooner Reid found out where Sam and Dean really were during the murders, the sooner his team could get to work finding witnesses willing to make official statements and the sooner the brothers would be released.

Once the elevator had reached the correct level, Reid stepped out into the hallway and headed towards the area where the criminals were held.

Waving to the guard on duty, Reid walked through the door when it was opened for him after a loud, low buzzing sound. Before he could go any further, the guard asked him to hand over anything that might be used as a weapon.

A second set of doors was opened the same way as the first and Reid quickly moved through them before they had fully opened.

The guard called from behind him, "In a hurry, Doctor?" but Reid wasn't listening.

Moving down a hallway with grey tile floors and cells on either side, Reid felt a certain need to rush. He didn't know if it was fear of Agent Lamb coming down to the holding area and finding him- if that happened he was sure he could make up a plausible lie- or his concern for the younger Winchester but the doctor was moving so rapidly that he nearly walked right past Dean.

"Hey! Dr. Reid!"

He stopped a couple of cells down, quickly turned around and faced the older Winchester.

"You on a mission?" Dean asked, standing up and stretching.

"Do you remember where you were at the time the Leviathans were pretending to be you and Sam and killing all those people?" Reid asked without formality.

"What?" Dean asked.

"We think that if we can prove you and Sam were not in those places, we could have a chance in proving your innocence."

Dean still looked confused. Reid sighed and listed the names of the cities the Leviathans were in, "Jericho, California; Manitoc, Wisconsin; St. Louis, Missouri, and Ankeny, Iowa."

"Shit," the elder Winchester swore and ran a hand down his face, "I don't know."

"Do you think Sam would remember?" Reid asked.

Dean shook his head, "If he didn't have Hell rattling around in his head, I'd say yes but not now. He can barely keep it together most of the time."

"Then you have to know!" Reid insisted, "This is the only way we have of getting you and Sam out."

"Okay, okay," Dean answered and began pacing, muttering.

"Jericho… Jericho…"

"That was the First Bank massacre," Reid offered, trying to be helpful, "It was the first attack."

After a moment or two more of pacing, Dean stopped, his expression grim.

"I remember where we were," he told the doctor, "But I don't think it would be very helpful."

"Where?" Reid asked, "Whatever it is, we will make it work."

Dean raised his eyes to the ceiling for a moment before raking a hand through his hair, "Sam and I were in Whitefish, Montana, helping a friend torture a Leviathan for information."

"Could this friend vouch for you and Sam?" Reid asked. It wasn't an airtight alibi but it could be useful. Maybe. Perhaps they could overlook the fact that a relation and not a complete stranger knew where the brothers were during the time the Leviathans were murdering in their names.

"And where were you and Sam during the other attacks?" Reid wanted to know, maybe there was something there that could be helpful.

"Hunting down the bastards who were pretending to be us and killing innocent people," Dean growled, "We stayed out of public sight as much as possible, since everyone thought we were murderers."

Reid nodded.

"Oh wait! We got arrested in Iowa and almost killed by the Leviathans pretending to be us. The Sheriff there… uh, Osborne, I think his name was, helped us escape and promised to help fake our deaths. You could talk to him."

Reid perked up a bit, "That could be helpful."

Dean gave the doctor one of Bobby's numerous phone numbers before asking the younger man to go check on his brother.

"I'm really worried about Sammy," he told Reid, "I'm afraid he'll snap and your FBI agents will lock him away for good."

Reid, his expression serious, approached the cell, "Dean, I'm going to do everything I can to get you and Sam out before that happens."

The older Winchester smiled, "Thanks, Doc."

Reid returned the gesture and headed down to the other side of the holding area to where Sam was.

For a second Reid thought the younger Winchester was asleep. He was lying on his back on the metal-framed bed, hands laced together on his chest, legs hanging over the end of the bed, before his eyes opened.

"Sam," Reid said, "Are you all right?"

The hunter nodded but didn't move to sit up.

"I made him go away again," Sam told him.

"You made who go away?" Reid asked, "The Devil?"

Again, Sam nodded, "Lucifer."

"We're going to get you out of here," Reid assured him, "My team and I are going to get both of you and Dean out and all charges erased from your records if we can manage it."

"That's good," Sam muttered.

Reid frowned. He wasn't sure Sam was as all right as he claimed he was.

"I should go now," he told his friend, "But I'll be back as soon as I can."

Before leaving the holding area, Reid stopped to talk once more to Dean.

"He said he was all right," he told the older Winchester, "Told me he made Lucifer go away again."

The doctor looked questioningly at the hunter and Dean frowned.

"He said that? Did he tell you anything else?"

Reid shook his head, "What does it mean?"

Dean sighed, "Shortly after the wall in Sam's head broke, he cut his hand open, sliced a gash right down his palm."

"By accident," he added after a moment, as though it would be a stain on his brother's character if Reid believed the younger Winchester had hurt himself on purpose.

The hunter held his left hand open, palm up.

"And at first, Sam would press down on the cut and it seemed to make the hallucinations stop."

Dean pushed his right thumb down onto the palm of his left hand in demonstration.

"But… eventually it stopped working and the hallucinations just got worse."

"Why did that make the hallucinations go away?" Reid asked; he had heard of schizophrenics or drug addicts clawing at their own arms, hallucinating insects underneath the skin but he had never heard of pain causing a hallucination to stop completely.

"I'm not sure," Dean admitted, "But I think that the physical pain Sam causes himself is different then the remembered pain of Hell. If that makes sense. I guess it doesn't really have to. It worked okay."

Reid nodded, "But you said that pressing on the scar on his palm stopped working. What could he be doing now to make the hallucinations disappear?"

Dean thought for a moment and then his eyes widened.

"His shoulder," he said, "The shoulder the Leviathan bit. It still isn't completely healed. Sam must have hurt his shoulder so that Lucifer would leave him alone."

Reid sucked in a breath; he didn't know how he felt about that.

"But… that's good, at least for now," he suggested, "It's helping Sam keep control."

Dean shook his head, "With the way his hallucinations are now, how strong they are, it won't work for long."

Reid said nothing. He only hoped that his friend would be able to hold onto his sanity just a little bit longer.

"I really need to go," he said, "I shouldn't be down here."

Dean nodded, "It was good to see you again."

Reid looked surprised for a moment and then gave a wan smile, "You too, Dean."

"Now just get Sammy and I the heck out of here!" Dean exclaimed, laughing.

Reid nodded, "We'll do everything we can."

Turning away from the hunter, the doctor walked back the way he came, pausing only to say goodnight to the guard before returning to his desk. Looking up at Lamb's office, Reid noticed that the light was now out and the blinds were closed. Lamb must have finally gone home for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Metallica song.
> 
> Please leave Kudos or a Comment!


	4. Scar Tissue

Hands cuffed before him, with a chain running down to attach to the shackles around his ankles to impede his ability to run, Dean should have been a ball of nerves as he sat at a stainless steel table in an interview room, waiting to be interrogated. Instead, the hunter was almost smiling, the fingers of one hand tapping on the cool surface of the metal table as though the FBI were taking up his time.

The room was fairly small, with only enough room for the table and two metal chairs, positioned across from one another. Across from where Dean sat, one wall held a window of two-way glass, affording the hunter of his own reflection whereas whoever sat behind it would be able to see him clearly. The floor was covered in drab grey tiles; the walls were cinderblock painted off-white. A greyish-blue metal door with a small window at the top with chicken wire-reinforced glass was the only entrance and exit.

Dean sighed and sat back, wondering how his brother was doing. It had been quiet all night but for Dr. Reid's visit and the elder Winchester decided to take that as good news. Dean was sure that if Sam had started freaking out, he'd know; they would have to go see if he was all right if his brother had had an episode.

Dean believed the young doctor when he said his team would do all they could to help them get out. He just hoped Bobby and Sheriff Osborne of Ankeny, Iowa made good statements and that they would fly with the FBI.

The older Winchester looked up as the door opened and the agent who'd arrested him at the motel stepped into the room, a rather thick file folder beneath one arm.

The agent said nothing as he sat down at the opposite end of the table from Dean and opened the file.

"Dean Henry Winchester," the agent said in a slightly nasal voice. The hunter felt sure he'd seen the man in some movie or another but couldn't put his finger on it.

"That's my name," the hunter said, "Don't wear it out."

Dean smiled and the FBI agent returned the gesture, if coldly.

"I'm Supervisory Special Agent Carter Lamb," he told Dean.

The hunter smirked, "That's quite a mouthful."

"You're in so much trouble," the agent told him, "It's not even funny."

Both men were silent for a moment before the agent chuckled.

Dean frowned. Oh great, of course he had to wind up with a crazy one.

"I'm not here to discuss the possibility that you and your brother might have murder those people," Agent Lamb began, "It's clear that you did. What I want to know though, is how you managed to escape police custody and effectively disappear."

"Ah," Dean said and leaned forward, "A great magician never reveals his secrets."

The agent frowned at him, "Agents Velente and Morris- I'm sure you know them- filed a report that they saw you and your brother dead in the coroner's office in Ankeny, Iowa. A short time later, the Sheriff and coroner were both reported missing, presumed dead. Now, you and your brother didn't have anything to do with that, did you? Tying up loose ends to ensure you could make a clean get away and fake your deaths?"

Dean felt shock quicken his breath for a moment. He didn't know that the Sheriff was dead, surely the work of the Leviathans pretending to be he and Sam.

"We didn't do that," Dean said, truthfully, "If I were you, I'd want to check in with your Agents Velente and Morris."

Lamb shook his head, "Even if I believed you, it's not possible. Both agents are AWOL."

Dean frowned. Things weren't looking so good. Now that the Sheriff from Ankeny was most likely dead- possibly a victim of Leviathans- Hotchner's team had only Bobby's testimony to go on and Dean doubted that would hold up against all the damning evidence this agent had on him and Sam.

The agent gave a ghost of a smile; secretly pleased he'd apparently been able to shake the hunter.

All he had to do now was continue drilling the young man with questions and sooner or later his cocky attitude would crack completely and he'd get the answers- and the confession- he was looking for.

SPN

"We have a serious problem," JJ called to the other members of her team, sitting restlessly in a boardroom up on the catwalk.

"What is it?" Hotch asked instantly.

"Sheriff Osborne and the coroner, who happens to be his daughter, are both missing and have been since Sam and Dean were sighted in Ankeny," JJ told them and Morgan growled angrily.

"Damn it!" he snarled and stood, hands clenched into fists.

"What about Dean and Sam's friend?" Rossi asked, secretly crossing his fingers.

"He agreed to come in an testify that they were with him but I am not sure how well that will hold up," JJ told them, offering a bit of hope, "He's known them since they were children and he could easily be seen as covering for them."

"Maybe we could get him to do a polygraph test?" Prentiss suggested, "Prove that he's not lying about their whereabouts."

"That's possible," Reid agreed, "But Sam and Dean weren't with him the entire time the murders were happening. He'd be lying about that if he claimed they were always with him and that could be picked up by the test."

The team deflated a bit.

"We'll figure something out," Hotch said, "Let's just wait until we talk to Mr. Singer."

SPN

Sam sat ramrod straight in the hard, metal chair his brother had occupied only hours before, hands and legs shackled the same way as Dean's had been, though he lacked any of his sibling's confidence.

Instead, Sam was fighting to maintain his grip on reality.

Lucifer lounged in the seat across from him, whistling to himself happily.

Sam, hands cuffed as they were, was unable to lift his arm to press his fingers into his injured shoulder and make the vision disappear.

"C'mon Sammy," the Devil said, "You knew that wouldn't work forever, just like that scar on your palm."

Sam said nothing, forcing himself to look through the hallucination rather than directly at him.

The hunter flinched when the door to the room opened and Agent Lamb walked into the room.

"Oooh, company!" Lucifer crowed and got up out of the chair, moving to the other side of the table to stand beside Sam.

"Are you good cop or bad cop?" the Devil asked as the agent sat down and opened a file folder in similar thickness to Dean's.

"Sammy Winchester," the agent said informally.

"I'm Supervisory Special Agent Carter Lamb," he told the hunter, pausing between each word for longer than necessary.

"I talked to your brother a while ago," he continued, speaking slowly and clearly.

Sam frowned, why was the agent talking like that?

"He thinks you're stupid," Lucifer told him, "Seriously."

Sam's eyes widened. Lucifer chuckled.

"And he told me that you two didn't kill all those poor people," Lamb continued, smiling in a friendly 'we're-all-friends-here' way, trying to disarm the younger man.

"Despite the evidence we have saying that you did," Lamb tapped the file in front of him with his index finger.

"Do you want to talk about it? You can tell me," the agent asked with a sickly smile.

Sam let out a breath.

Oh my God, he thought.

"Yeah, Sammy," Lucifer chimed in, "Do you want to talk? You don't have to talk about all those poor people the Leviathans killed. How about you talk about Hell, instead? Get it off your chest. I'm sure Agent Lamb here would find it fascinating."

"Hm?" Lamb prompted, leaning forwards slightly, "Did Dean make you help him kill those people? Did he shove that gun into your hands and tell you to do it? Did he threaten you? You can tell me. We'll get you help. You don't have to be with Dean anymore."

Sam closed his eyes. He couldn't believe what the Agent was saying.

"Can you talk?" Lamb asked.

Lucifer snorted laughter, "He can talk all right. You just have to know the right way to make him, right Sammy?"

The hunter opened his eyes and stared at Lamb's face, still refusing to say anything.

"You don't look so good, Sammy," Lamb said, "Can I call you Sammy?"

"Did Dean do that to you?"

Lucifer frowned, "Now I'm insulted. Dean would never harm a hair on his baby brother's head."

The Devil reached out and placed a hand on top Sam's, petting his hair.

Sam's breathing quickened, his heart beginning to beat rapidly.

Lamb, unable to see the hallucination, thought he'd struck a nerve.

"He did, didn't he?" he said, "He hurts you. Does he hurt you if you don't do what he says?"

Sam remained silent, shivering as Lucifer's hand trailed down to rest heavily on the back of his neck.

"Yes," the Devil whispered in Sam's ear and the young man shuddered.

Lamb smiled with false compassion.

"Dean won't hurt you ever again," he told Sam, "He's going away for a long, long time. How does that sound?"

"You know, by not saying anything, you're only digging yourself deeper and deeper into this hole," Lucifer said to Sam.

"No," Sam croaked, not doing anything to sway Lamb's ideas about him, "Dean doesn't hurt me."

The agent sat back, surprised etched across his face.

"It speaks!" he crowed.

"C'mon Sammy," he continued, "You can tell me. Dean can't hurt you anymore."

"I change my mind," Lucifer said, "I like it better when he thinks you belong in a Steinbeck novel."

Just the idea of Dean doing anything to hurt him made Sam sick to his stomach.

"Is it getting warm in here or is it just me?" the Devil asked, "Let's turn down the A/C."

With his free hand- keeping the other firmly on the back of Sam's neck- Lucifer reached out and touched the stainless steel table, causing frost to instantly creep across its surface, crackling quietly.

Stop it! Sam thought, you can't do that! You're not real!

Lucifer chuckled and squeezed the nape of Sam's neck painfully.

The air in the room chilled so that the hunter could see his breath and the agent's. Still, frost continued to creep across the surfaces.

Sam shivered as the cold seeped into his clothes, into his skin and bones.

The FBI agent was peering at him strangely, not saying anything, just watching him with eyes like those of a bird-of-prey.

Sam couldn't believe how cold it was becoming; his fingers and toes, the tip of his nose and ears began to sting.

"Stop it," the hunter ground out through chattering teeth.

"Who are you talking to, Sammy?" Lamb asked.

"Don't call me Sammy!" the young man snapped suddenly, reaching forward and sweeping the file off the table, scattering the papers across the floor.

A face appeared in the small square window in the door but Lamb gestured with a raised hand and the face vanished.

Sam could almost see the wheels turning in the agent's head but he didn't care. His attention was focused on his fingers, the skin steadily turning from healthy pink to blue.

Sam had gone through this before. He knew that soon his fingers- and toes- would turn black with frostbite; agony shooting through his limbs as he slowly froze, inch by inch as Lucifer looked on and laughed. It was almost as bad as burning. Almost.

SPN

Lamb watched Sam Winchester as though entranced. The young man was staring down at his hands as though fascinated by them.

Dean had given him no answers, and although Sam had yet to reply to his questions, the agent was sure that the young man would be a lot easier to manipulate into confessing than his brother was. As was typical of the submissive party member when two serial killers got together.

"Sammy," Lamb said since that nickname had registered a least some sort of response in the hunter.

The young man did not look up; it was as though he didn't even hear the agent, and continued to look at his hands.

"Sammy, I'm trying to help you," he said, fighting back the urge to laugh, "Don't you understand that?"

No response from the young man. Sam though began to tremble and liquid began to drip down onto the table.

Crying, the young man was crying! Maybe they were actually getting somewhere.

Lamb, self-assured, reached out to touch the young man when Sam suddenly jerked back hard against the chair, holding his hands up and away.

"D-Don't touch me!" Sam cried out, staring at the agent wide red-rimmed eyes.

Lamb held his own hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"Okay, Sammy, okay," he told the younger man, "I won't touch you. Can you talk? Can you talk to me?"

Sam shook his head, his hair striking his face, and for a moment Lamb though the gesture was in response to his question but then he realized that it wasn't.

"No," the young man groaned, almost choking the words out, "No, please, no more. Stop it, please. Please."

Abruptly, the hunter's body went limp and he slid out of the chair. Standing up, Lamb peered over the table and saw that the hunter was just lying on the floor on his back, not moving, eyes staring up at the ceiling.

He's having some sort of seizure or something, Lamb told himself and looked up when the door to the room opened to reveal Agents Peterson and Fan.

The two other agents had concern on their faces but before they could approach the stricken you man, Lamb held up a hand.

"Wait a minute," he said, "I want to see what happens."

His fellow agents stared at him in disbelief.

All eyes turned to the hunter on the floor, waiting with bated breath for something to occur.

Suddenly, as quickly as it had happened, the seizure or whatever it was seemed to end and the hunter blinked, struggling to sit up.

No one moved forward to aid the young man and he pulled himself up onto his elbows, eyes moving from one face to another without recognition.

"D'n," he murmured, "D'n."

Striding forward, Lamb reached down, grabbing Sam's right arm and pulled him up into a standing position, ignoring the hunter's groan of pain.

"I think I've heard all I need to," he said, "Peterson, let's go."

The other agent went around to Sam's left side and took hold of the young man's elbow, following Lamb out of the room.

The hunter's head hung low and he moved slowly, as though exhausted by the events that had taken place in the interrogation room.

Agent Fan trailed behind her superior, asking if she should get a doctor for the young man.

"Carter, please," she begged, "Maybe he needs medication. You can't deny him that."

"He's fine," Lamb argued.

"But that's not right!" Fan cried and the other agent stopped and snapped.

"This man killed dozens of innocent people! Was that right? No, I didn't think so," Lamb snarled, "So why don't you keep your opinions on what's right and wrong to yourself."

Agent Fan stopped where she was and didn't follow Lamb or Peterson down the hall.

SPN

JJ and Prentiss met Bobby Singer in the lobby of the building, surprised when he appeared with a middle-aged woman with long black hair and an air of confidence about her.

"Sheriff Jody Mills," the woman introduced herself, "Sioux Falls."

"She insisted on coming along to help," Bobby told the agents, somewhat apologetically, "When she'd heard Sam and Dean were in FBI custody."

Sheriff Mills nodded, her expression serious.

"You two believe in monsters?" she asked.

JJ and Prentiss told her that they did; with thanks to the Winchester brothers.

"They saved my life," the sheriff said, "I only hope I can return the favour."

"We're doing everything we can to clear Sam and Dean's names," JJ told the Winchesters' friends.

As the four headed towards the elevators that would lead them towards the bullpen and offices that belonged to the FBI, JJ couldn't help but feel a surge of hope. With a state police officer- a sheriff no less- willing to testify as to the brothers' innocence, they may really have a chance of freeing the Winchesters.

SPN

"How did this happen?" Bobby Singer asked Aaron Hotchner. He and Jody were sitting in the team leaders office, surrounded by the members of his team and was surprisingly calm, considering he was surrounded by so many law enforcement officers. The old hunter felt as though he could trust the BAU team, if Sam and Dean did since the boys didn't trust many.

"Someone saw Sam and Dean early yesterday morning and called it in," Agent Rossi told him.

"Balls," Bobby swore, "An' the boys were so careful."

Agent Hotchner nodded sympathetically.

"Unfortunately Sam and Dean are still on the Most Wanted List," he said, "But we are hoping to clear their names completely so they won't have to worry about being arrested again."

Bobby sighed, "I'll do what I can to help you. Those boys… it'll kill them to be separated like this. They can't function right without one another. And with Sam… that poor boy won't last a fortnight, I promise you."

Jody put a hand on his arm comfortingly, her expression as grim as his.

SPN

Dean wanted, no, needed to see Sam. His 'big brother' sense was tingling and he felt that something was desperately wrong.

The hunter paced restlessly in his cell, on edge, every sense on high alert for trouble.

He trusted that Agent Lamb as far as he could throw a piano and he trusted the man even less around his brother. Dean wasn't blind, he knew Sam was deteriorating rapidly and he knew others could see it too. Just the thought of Lamb talking to Sam in that stupid nasally voice of his made Dean want to punch him in the face.

The man didn't know or care about them as people, as human, and Dean had a feeling that the part in the Constitution about cruel and unusual punishment was only a rough guideline to the agent.

But surely the man wouldn't be allowed to hurt Sam? This was Quantico, not Guantanamo.

Still, Dean felt that somewhere, somehow his baby brother was hurting.

SPN

Sam sat hunched on the metal-framed bed in his cell, unbelievably tired, but he couldn't sleep, even though it seemed as though every fiber of his being cried out for it.

Instead, he gripped his right shoulder tightly in his hand, digging his fingers into the flesh, jaw clenched in pain and praying that it would be enough to drive Lucifer away. If only for a little while.

The hunter, still disorientated, wanted nothing but his brother. Dean would help him, tell him everything was going to be okay, and remind him that he was Topside, not in the Cage anymore.

"Dean," Sam whimpered, the word barely making out from between his lips, "Dean… Please… I need you… Please…"

Unable to do anything else, the hunter fell to his side, upper body on the lumpy mattress while his feet rested on the cement floor of the jail cell.

SPN

"I want a psychologist brought in," Lamb was telling his team members, "That boy is crazier than a shithouse rat, I'm telling you."

"I thought you said he was autistic or… retarded," Peterson argued, clearly uncomfortable quoting the supervising agent word-for-word.

"I think that we should still get a psychologist to talk to him," Lamb said calmly, "Who knows, maybe he won't have to go to trial and they'll just lock him up in some padded room."

"I can make the call," Agent Clayton suggested.

"Thank you," Lamb replied with exaggerated graciousness, "At least one of you sees things my way."

Agent Fan frowned but said nothing. Lamb had done a lot of questionable things in the time she had worked with him, but his complete disregard for Sam Winchester's wellbeing was something else. Yes, he was still a murdered, but that didn't make him any less human and the law still protected people like him.

"While you're making that call, Clay, I'm gonna head down to have some lunch," Lamb said, "Peterson, Fan, want to join me?"

The only female on the team shook her head, "I have some paperwork I need to get started on."

Peterson, unable to come up with a likely excuse, followed Lamb out of his office.

SPN

"That short one's him?" Bobby asked, peering through the blinds in the boardroom window.

"Yes," Rossi commented, "That's the great Agent Lamb."

"Looks like a weasel to me," Bobby commented, "Sure he's human?"

"Unfortunately," Rossi replied.

"Okay, when do you want to do this?" Bobby asked.

"JJ called down and a polygraph machine is free this afternoon at two," Hotch told him.

The hunter nodded, "Too bad we can't go an' see the boys."

Jody made an agreeable sound. She was peering curiously at the whiteboard the team had set up with information on the Winchesters in their struggle to clear their names. Pictures and maps plastered the board, along with handwritten notes and Post-It notes.

"I know," the team leader said, "But it wouldn't be smart, especially before the polygraph test."

"Yeah," Bobby said sadly, "I just hope it'll be able to help the boys and not get them into deeper trouble."

SPN

"Come in," Erin Strauss' voice called and Agent Fan opened the assistant director's door, CD gripped tightly in her hand.

"Agent Fan," Strauss said, "I was surprised when you said you needed to see me. Is there a problem?"

The younger agent nodded and sat down in the chair in front of Strauss' desk.

"I have some concerns about Agent Lamb," she began and the older woman sighed in exasperation, "I've heard it all before; he's arrogant, self-centered, worries only about his own appearance, harasses his team members and other agents… You don't have anything new, Agent."

"I'm not here to complain about Agent Lamb's conduct with his team," Fan said without missing a beat, she hesitate or Strauss would eat her alive, "What is troubling me, is his treatment of a prisoner."

Now the assistant director raised a pale blonde eyebrow, "That's a new one."

Before the older woman could say anything else, Fan continued, "As you know, Sam and Dean Winchester were taken into custody midmorning yesterday. Agent Lamb decided to wait until today to interrogate both brothers and when he questioned the younger brother, I believe, and can show with recorded evidence, that he denied Sam Winchester his constitutional rights."

Strauss said nothing nodded.

"May I?" Fan asked and showed the woman the CD. Strauss nodded and allowed the young agent to put the CD into her computer.

A video screen popped up on the desktop, Fan enlarged it and it showed the interrogation room and Sam Winchester sitting alone on one side of a stainless steel table. A counter on one corner of the screen showed the time as it occurred. There was no sound on the video.

Fan moved the mouse and fast-forwarded the video to Lamb's entrance. Both women watched the convicted murderer and FBI agent interact in silence until Peterson and Lamb led Sam out of the room.

Exiting the video and ejecting the CD, Agent Fan sat back in her chair.

"As you can see, Agent Lamb antagonized Sam Winchester and when the young man fell to the floor, he offered no medical attention."

Strauss sat back and let out a long breath.

"What I can see, Agent Fan," she began and the young woman knew she had lost the argument before it had even begun, "Is a decorated agent doing his job. What I can see is Agent Lamb's concern for his own safety. That is why he did not approach Sam Winchester the instant he fell to the floor. What I can see is a young, no-name agent jealous of her superior attempting to tarnish his good name by coming up with accusations of abuses of Constitutional rights."

Agent Fan stared at Strauss in shock.

"But Ma'am, if Sam Winchester has a seizure disorder of some kind-" she began but Strauss raised her hand, "Sam and Dean Winchester are criminal masterminds. Did it not occur to you, Agent Fan, that perhaps the younger brother was pretending to be ill?"

"No, but-" the woman tried again but the assistant director shook her head, "Get out of my office. I don't want to hear anything else about this or I will have you written up."

Agent Fan stood up as though her seat had suddenly caught fire and retreated from the Assistant Director's office, feeling her cheeks burn with humiliation.

As she made her way quickly down the hallway, CD clutched tightly in one hand, Agent Fan was sure she had not been wrong and that Sam Winchester truly was suffering.

SPN

"How did it go?" David Rossi asked Bobby as the man stepped out of the room where he'd just taken his polygraph test.

"You know, they never tell you right away an' you're waiting on pins and needles for the call for weeks on end," Bobby grumbled.

Rossi gave a small smile.

"Where's Jody?" Bobby asked. The Sheriff had given her testimony first and the hunter was a little surprised to see that she wasn't waiting outside the door for him.

"She went up to the boardroom," Rossi told him, "Last I checked she was talking with JJ and Prentiss."

The two men headed up to where the rest of the team was and when Rossi opened the door to the boardroom, Bobby saw that Jody was indeed involved in conversation with the two female FBI agents.

"Bobby!" Jody exclaimed, "I'm glad you're here. I've been thinking."

The hunter narrowed his eyes at her, "About what?"

"Sam and Dean drive around in that old classic Chevy," Jody began and Bobby nodded, "Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, the Leviathans had one too," Jody continued, "To make their charade more believable, I guess."

"Where's this going?" Bobby asked.

"Sam and Dean's car is still hidden away, right?"

"Of course," the hunter answered, "Car like that, sticks out like a sore thumb. They haven't had it out and about since the Leviathans murdered all those poor folks."

Jody nodded, "Our testimony won't be enough to clear Sam and Dean's names. You've been their friend for years, and even with my word, it still doesn't give them an airtight alibi. But, if Agent Hotchner and his team could get Sam and Dean's car, they could prove that they didn't drive it during the string of murders the Leviathans committed.

Bobby appeared incredulous to the idea.

"The Impala," Morgan spoke up, "Or an Impala, was taken by as evidence after it was left in the parking lot of the Ankeny, Iowa police department. The Leviathans must not have needed it after Sam and Dean were assumed dead."

"How would that prove that the boys weren't the killers?" Bobby asked.

"Every car is unique," Dr. Reid spoke up, "Just as each person is. Of course, the manufacturers make them near perfect clones but that's just it, they are almost identical, but not quite. They all have different serial numbers, mileage, wear and tear, that is distinct. If we can find Sam and Dean's Impala then that would add to the growing evidence for their innocence."

"Hold on," Bobby raised a calloused hand and swiped his baseball cap off for a moment, scratching his head, "You said each car has unique wear and tear?"

The doctor nodded.

"A serious accident should definitely leave a distinct mark on a car then," Bobby continued, "Especially if it involves major repairs to the body and innards of the car."

"Bobby?" Jody asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Years ago, Sam and Dean and their Dad were involved in a car accident," the hunter told the agents, "They were hit by a transport truck. It smashed one side of the car all to hell. Dean fixed it, but it wasn't easy, took a lot of bodywork on the car."

"The Leviathan's car won't have that work done to it because they wouldn't have known about the accident!" Jody filled in the dots and rushed towards Bobby, hugging him.

"Finding Sam and Dean's car would be a great step in clearing their name," Hotchner agreed, "But it may not be enough."

Jody and Bobby looked at the lead agent.

"Do you know if there were pictures taken of the accident?" he asked Bobby.

"Well probably," the hunter commented, "Police have to do that, right?"

Hotchner nodded, "Where did the accident happen?"

Bobby scratched his beard, trying to remember, "Think it was a few miles from some small town in Missouri… what was it called…"

"Maitland," he said, "I believe it was called Maitland."

"Good," Hotch smiled, "That's a start."

"Did Dean tell you where he hid his car?" Jody asked and the hunter shook his head, "Wouldn't even tell me in case some Leviathan bastard got a hold of my DNA."

"Reid, when Lamb and his team are preoccupied, can you go and ask Dean where he's keeping his car?" Hotch asked and the doctor nodded.

"Since we know you'll go anyway without permission," Morgan commented sarcastically but he smiled.

The younger man looked chagrinned but said he would as soon as Lamb and his team were out of the picture.

"I know you're all focused on this Leviathan thing," Bobby spoke up, "But that ain't the first crime the boys have been convicted of. Are you working on the other ones too?"

Without missing a beat, Agent Hotchner spoke up, "If we can prove Sam and Dean did not kill those people, that's a win, and the most pressing matter right now. After that, we'll work backwards to focus on the other crimes."

Bobby nodded.

"Maybe we could split up and investigate the other crimes?" Reid suggested, "Work them at the same time?"

Hotch nodded, "That may work. We just have to be very careful and if we get a call for an active case, we'll have to all drop everything."

The other agents nodded in agreement.

"Thank you for your help, Bobby, Sheriff Mills," JJ said and the team took turns shaking hands with them.

"Those boys are innocent," Jody said, "They don't deserve to be behind bars."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a song by The Red Hot Chili Peppers.   
> Please leave a comment or kudos!


	5. Zero the Hero

Lamb was in his office, talking with someone animatedly on the phone. Deciding to take a chance that the agent would stay in his office, Reid headed out of the boardroom and across the catwalk to the stairs. As he crossed through the bullpen, the agent felt his heart begin to beat rapidly in his chest.

The team was finally starting to gather solid evidence of the Winchester brothers' innocence.

Reid just hoped that it wasn't too little too late.

Reaching the elevators, the doctor was just about to press the button when the double doors opened and he was almost bowled over by the agent exiting the lift.

The female agent didn't even look up as she stepped out of the elevator, her head down, one long-fingered hand holding something tightly in front of her.

"Excuse me!" Reid exclaimed and narrowly stepped out of Agent Fan's way.

She hurried past him without even responding to his words.

Looking after the other agent confusedly for a moment, Reid shook his head and stepped into the elevator, pressing the button that would take him to the lower levels of the building.

SPN

Taking his phone from his pocket, Hotchner called up Penelope Garcia.

The phone rang once before she answered, sounding more than just a little frantic.

"Yes! Yes, how can I help? Did you have a breakthrough?"

Morgan chuckled, "We sure did, Baby Girl."

"Oh thank goodness," Penelope breathed.

"Garcia," Hotchner spoke up, "I need you to look up an accident report for the town of Maitland, Missouri, involving a transport truck and a nineteen sixty-seven Chevrolet Impala."

"Impala?" Garcia asked, "Is that the boys-"

"Yes," Hotchner answered quickly, "Now, Maitland is a small town so they may not have their own police department. If not, start searching state police records, okay?"

"Got it," the tech analyst told him, "Should be easy enough, not everyone drives '67 Chevy Impalas."

"Good," the team leader said, "Once you have that report, I want you to send it to us, everything you have on it, pictures, everything."

"Aye aye Captain," Garcia commented and ended the call.

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Aaron lifted his gaze to the far end of the table in the boardroom where Rossi, JJ and Prentiss were all pouring over the copies of the Winchesters' files, making notes of possible past crimes they would have to investigate.

Morgan lifted an eyebrow at his superior.

"Leave them a little bit longer," Aaron told him, "If we're going to do this, we need to do it properly."

Morgan nodded and wondered how Reid was doing.

SPN

Dean looked up sharply when he heard the sound of footsteps hurrying down the hallway towards him. Standing up from the metal-framed bed, he approached the bars and peered out, relaxing when he saw Dr. Reid making his way to the cell.

"How's it going?" the hunter asked, taking in the agent's rather harried appearance, "Everything good?"

The young doctor nodded, "We think we have a way to prove, with evidence, that you weren't at the sites of the murders the Leviathans committed."

Dean's face broke into a grin, "That's fantastic, what evidence do you have?"

"We can prove that your car and the Chevy Impala the Leviathans were driving are not the same vehicle," Reid told the hunter, offering a small smile as well.

"Right now Garcia is looking for the police reports and photographs from the accident you and Sam were in some years ago," the agent continued, "That involved a collision with a transport truck."

Dean nodded, now no longer smiling.

"We believe that if we can find the information the police collected concerning your Impala, we can use it to prove that the one the Leviathan's drove is not the same. Their Impala did not undergo the same repairs as yours did after the accident."

Dean nodded, giving a wan smile.

"In order to make the evidence from the accident more than circumstantial, however," Reid went on, "We will need your car. We have the ones the Leviathans were driving; it was picked up by a couple agents after you and Sam were thought dead and it was abandoned."

"You want my car," Dean said, feeling a familiar surge of protectiveness come over him at the thought of anyone other than himself or Sam touching the vehicle.

"Please," Reid said, "All we need to do is have it confirmed that your car was involved in an accident resulting in major bodywork and that the Leviathan's was not."

Dean sighed. Even though he loved the Impala, it was still just a car. Sam was the one he truly cared about and if having some FBI agents tear his car apart to prove that Sammy was innocent of mass murder, then so be it.

"I left it on Little Tall Island," the hunter told him, "In Maine. Paid some guy named Brautigan a hundred bucks to keep her in the boathouse right there on the docks. "

Reid nodded, "That's good; that will help a lot. Thank you, Dean."

The hunter waved a hand, "As long as it helps me and Sammy get out of here."

There was a moment of silence before Dean spoke again, "Can you check on Sammy? I've had this bad feeling since that asshole Lamb interviewed me."

Reid told Dean he would see how Sam was doing.

"Agent Lamb gives everyone bad feelings," the doctor replied, deadpan and Dean almost laughed.

"I'll be right back," the doctor promised and the hunter watched him walk out of sight and down the hallway towards where his brother was being held.

SPN

As Reid walked down the hall, he texted Hotch, aware that time was of the essence if they were going to convince anybody of the Winchesters' innocence:

IMPALA IN MAINE. LITTLE TALL ISLAND. BOATHOUSE. FIND BRAUTIGAN.

The doctor stopped sharply at Sam Winchester's cell and peered in at the young man. The hunter lay on his side on the narrow bed, his feet on the floor, his eyes wide open but seeing nothing.

"Sam," Reid spoke softly, not wanting to startle him.

The man gave no indication he'd even heard him.

"Sam," Reid repeated, speaking in a louder tone.

"Sam, can you hear me?" It was clear the young man could not or would not hear him.

Recalling how the hunter sometimes seemed to be remembering his time in Hell, Reid tried again, "Sam? Sam, what are you seeing? What's happening?"

Still the hunter acted as though he were deaf.

He can't stay like this, Reid thought and turned away, unable to do anything for the young man.

SPN

Dean opened his mouth, about to ask how his brother was holding up, when Reid hurried right past him without a word.

"Hey! Dr. Reid! Stop! Stop!"

The agent ran on as though he hadn't heard the hunter at all.

"REID!" Dean shouted, angry and frustrated; scared for his brother and what might be happening to him.

He had no idea why the doctor had been running down the hall as though there were Hellhounds chasing him but he knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good.

"Damn it, Sammy," Dean muttered and leaned against the bars of his cell, feeling useless, "Hold on, man. We're almost out of here."

SPN

"Reid says that Dean's car is on Little Tall Island in Maine," Aaron read the text the doctor had sent him.

The team gave a collective smile and JJ spoke up, "I think we have all we need from the files to help prove Sam and Dean are not criminals."

"What do you have?" Aaron asked.

"Looking back through the case files," Prentiss began, "We found that we don't have to worry about Sam and Dean showing up in Monument, Colorado. So we can check that one off the list."

The agents recalled the events that had transpired in Monument back in 2008. Special Agent Victor Henrikson, who had been chasing the Winchesters for some time, had finally caught up with them after Sam and Dean had been arrested by local law enforcement. The Deputy Director at the time, Steve Groves, and Agent Calvin Reidy were called in to take the Winchesters back to Quantico. That did not happen, however. The information was sketchy, mostly speculation, but several hours after the arrival of the Deputy Director, witnesses claimed they heard gunshots, shouting and an explosion coming from the Monument Police Department building though nothing had been substantiated. The next morning, the building was destroyed in an explosion- a gas leak- killing many people inside, including Agents Henrikson, Groves, and Reidy as well as, supposedly, the Winchesters.

"There's not much information on what happened after that… Mostly speculation," Prentiss continued, "But after this it was assumed Sam and Dean died in the same explosion that killed everyone in the station. At least, until those Leviathans showed up pretending to be the Winchesters."

The next case the brothers had been indicted for was the armed robbery of the City Bank in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Even though the Winchesters were never actually seen- except for the security footage- a bank employee named Ronald Reznick was shot and killed by SWAT team members when they had stormed the building to aid FBI and local law enforcement. The Winchesters had escaped by pretending to be members of the SWAT team.

The statute of limitations on armed robbery was six years and so as six and a half years had passed, the Winchesters could no longer be charged for the crime that took place in Milwaukee.

"In Baltimore," JJ took over for Emily, "Sam and Dean had been arrested for murder but it was found out that one of the arresting officers, Detective Pete Sheridan, was actually the killer and the boys were released by Sheridan's partner, Detective Diana Ballard."

"Everything seems to be going well so far," Rossi commented, "When does the other shoe drop?"

JJ gave a small smile, "Now. Back in October of 2005, Dean was nearly caught by the local law enforcement and SWAT team members in St. Louis Missouri, leaving the house of a young woman named Rebecca Warren. At first, Rebecca claimed Dean had attacked her but later recanted her statement."

"What changed her mind?" Morgan asked.

"Dean's body was found at Ms. Warren's house," JJ continued, "He'd been shot once in the chest with a silver bullet."

"The local law enforcement believed that Dean was responsible for the other attacks on women in the city, despite the fact that those who survived claimed up and down that their husbands or significant other had attacked them."

"So I guess Dean still can't show his face in St. Louis?" Rossi asked.

JJ shook her head, "Even though the police there think that he's dead, we still have a problem. If we don't prove that what's lying in the ground isn't Dean, he'll go to jail for attacking those women, even if we can get him and Sam off for the Leviathan's murders."

Aaron was frowning, thinking.

"How do you want to organize this?" Morgan asked.

"Dave, will you stay here while Morgan and I go to Maine?" Hotchner asked and Rossi nodded.

"JJ and Emily," he turned to the two women, "You'll go to Baltimore and have the body exhumed and DNA taken to prove that it's not Dean in there and that he could not have been the killer."

"Rossi," Aaron said, "I need you to look out for Reid. He's very anxious right now."

"I can do that," Dave agreed.

Before getting ready to go, Hotch called Garcia.

"How is the search for the accident reports going?" he asked the technical analyst.

"It's going, Sir," she replied, sounding irritated, "It's actually a lot more difficult than I expected. The Maitland Police Department only recently made the switch to electronic files and everything is a jumbled mess right now. The Winchesters' accident file may not have been processed yet and could still be sitting in a cardboard box in the department's basement."

"Keep going, Garcia," Hotch told her, "And keep us posted on what you find."

"Yes, Sir!" she replied, "It's like looking for a needle in a stack of needles but I'll find that report!"

Ending the call, Hotch looked up at Morgan, Prentiss and JJ.

"Let's go; Sam and Dean might not have a lot of time."

SPN

Reid didn't know what to do. The Winchesters were Lamb's responsibility, not his, but from what he knew of the older agent, the only thing that mattered was getting confessions of guilt from those implicated in committing horrible crimes.

Lamb wouldn't care that Sam was rapidly losing his grip on reality. Sure, he might be put off that the younger Winchester's lack of sanity prevented him for going to trial, but it would be just as well for the agent to see him locked away in an asylum for the criminally insane.

All that mattered to Carter Lamb was that those he believed were guilty- and to his credit, they usually were, he was a good agent nonetheless- paid for their crimes, regardless of how, be it life in prison or the electric chair, it didn't matter, so long as they were stopped.

But Reid new that any separation of the Winchester brothers would end badly. Even now, Sam was suffering and needed Dean with him, something that was not about to happen if Agent Lamb had his way, and that deeply worried the doctor.

Riding the elevator back to the floor where his desk was, Reid struggled to find a way to help Sam. He would have to talk to his team, see what they thought. Maybe they would have an idea about how to help the youngest Winchester maintain his hold on reality.

The elevator doors opened and Reid stepped out into the bullpen. Automatically he glanced up at Lamb's office and saw that the agent was still inside, still talking on the phone.

Breathing a small sigh of relief, the doctor began making his way to the catwalk and the boardroom his team had been using while they worked out how to prove the Winchesters' innocence.

"Dr. Reid!" a female voice called his name and the doctor looked around, searching for the person who had spoken.

Agent Fan was sitting at his desk, her face flushed and her dark eyes wide.

After a moment's hesitation, Reid approached his fellow agent.

"Are you all right, Agent Fan?" he asked, "You look upset."

The female agent smiled slightly, "I am upset."

Even though Agent Fan was a member of Carter Lamb's team, she did not share the older man's personality and Reid had always liked her.

Agent Fan sighed and stood up from Reid's seat, "I'm struggling with something and I was wondering if I could talk to you about it."

The young doctor blinked in surprise, "You want to talk to me? Why not Agent Lamb? Or Peterson or Clayton? Your team members?"

Agent Fan shook her head; "I can't talk to Agent Lamb about this. He's too set in his ways. He'd just laugh me out of his office."

"And Peterson and Clayton," she continued when Reid said nothing, "They're good agents, good men, but… they've been with Lamb longer than I have and I don't think they'd help me…"

Agent Fan paused and spoke her next words in a much quieter voice, as though she were sharing a secret with Reid, "I think they're afraid of Lamb. I think they're scared he'd ruin their careers if they said anything against him."

"What is it you wanted to talk with me about?" Reid asked the female agent, once again returning to her original train of thought.

Agent Fan let out a breath, "It's about the Winchesters."

The young doctor kept his expression neutral but behind the bland mask he was surprised.

Since the female agent was clearly nervous, agitated, Reid suggested they go into an empty boardroom and talk.

SPN

"Do you think this is going to be enough?" Morgan asked Aaron as they walked towards the jet waiting for them on the tarmac. The women had followed them out to where the Bureau's air and land transportation sat before climbing into a separate jet that would take them to St. Louis. Prentiss and JJ would fly to the Spirit of St. Louis Airport and from there contact local law enforcement in order to get permission to exhume the body believed to belong to Dean Winchester. Morgan and Hotchner, using a jet, would arrive at the Bangor International Airport shortly after the women landed in St. Louis and then it would be a little over an hour's drive to Bar Harbor. After arriving in Bar Harbor, it was another hour by ferry to reach Little Tall Island.

"It will have to be," Hotch answered the younger agent.

Morgan frowned. He knew that the evidence of Sam and Dean's innocence might not be enough and that it would take a damn strong argument on behalf of the brothers to sway the minds of Strauss, Lamb, Deputy Director Davis, and the public.

Morgan, usually extremely confident, felt a twinge of doubt that his team would come out on top this time and be able to set two innocent men free.

SPN

"I've never seen Carter like this before," Agent Fan told Reid, "I know he's passionate about taking dangerous men and women off the streets but ever since he was picked to bring Sam and Dean Winchester in he's been… I don't know… fanatical."

Reid listened quietly as the other agent spoke freely, her words muffled from the outside by a boardroom door. The blinds were drawn so that no one would know they were inside and give the room an empty look.

"I don't know how I can help you with that," the doctor replied, feigning ignorance.

Certainly Agent Fan hadn't asked to speak to him just so she could complain about her superior's obsessive personality.

"It's more than that, Agent Reid," the female agent continued, shaking her head, "He… Agent Carter, did something today that surely is illegal, against constitutional rights and…"

She paused, a deep red blush creeping up her neck and cheeks. She bowed her head, clearly uncomfortable and embarrassed.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened," Reid reminded her in a soft voice, the tone he often reserved for witnesses or victims of crimes his team were assigned to.

Sighing, Agent Fan looked up and nodded, "I went to see Agent Strauss with my concerns and… well… she accused me of trying to tarnish Carter's reputation."

Reid frowned, "What did he do?"

The doctor did not like where this was going. Although Erin Strauss could be stern and opinionated, Reid didn't think she would knowingly turn a blind eye towards acts that broke the constitutional rights of anyone, even convicted criminals.

"It's what he didn't do," Agent Fan told him.

Reid waited for her to speak but instead she stood and powered up the laptop sitting on the table, slipping a CD she took from the pocket of her blazer into the port and preparing a media player to show what was on it.

The young doctor eyed Agent Fan, suddenly feeling suspicious. She was not supposed to have that CD, which surely showed Agent Lamb in the interrogation room with one of the Winchesters.

He wondered if he was being set up for something. He wondered if somehow Lamb had seen him speaking to Dean or Sam and was now trying to prove it by using Agent Fan against him.

The surveillance video of the interrogation room appeared on the laptop's screen and Reid felt no surprise to see that it was Sam Winchester sitting at the table.

Reid watched the video in silence, his fear for the younger Winchester growing as the interview unfolded.

By the end, the doctor knew that if his team didn't act quickly it would be too late for the Winchesters; Sam would have lost his tenuous grip on reality forever and Dean would be looking forward to a lifetime in prison- a fate which Reid had the idea neither brother would survive- and forced himself to remain calm as he addressed Agent Fan.

"You said Agent Strauss did nothing about this?" he asked and Agent Fan shook her head.

"I thought maybe Sam Winchester was having a seizure," Agent Fan said, "But Strauss told me she thought he could be pretending. That didn't look like an act to me."

The agent pointed to the laptop where the final frame of the video had been paused to show an empty interrogation room.

"I wanted to ask you what you thought it was," Agent Fan told Reid, "You're a doctor, after all."

Shaking his head, Reid replied, "I'm not a medical doctor, but that wasn't a seizure."

Agent Fan deflated a bit; she thought Reid was going to say that Sam Winchester was a brilliant actor and was pretending to be unfit to stand trial- it had been done before- and she would once again be humiliated by one of her peers.

"It's Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder," Reid told her, "Or something similar."

The female agent looked up at the young doctor, "How do you know?"

Now it was Reid's turn to feel uneasy. He was sure he could make up some story about how Sam's reactions to Agent Lamb clearly showed the same symptoms as the condition but he really didn't want to and, after being shown the video, believed that Agent Fan was on the Winchesters' side. Even if she didn't believe they were innocent.

"Dean told me," the young doctor said and waited for the agent's reaction.

A look of surprise came across Agent Fan's face; her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly.

"You spoke to Dean Winchester?" she asked, "When? Why?"

It was Bureau etiquette that agents didn't become involved with suspects brought in by different teams. It also prevented information from becoming confused and hearsay occurring.

Reid looked at Agent Fan, trying to decide if he could tell her the truth or not. He had already come this far; he may as well go all the way. She may become an ally and help his team plead the case of the Winchesters' innocence.

"Five months ago we had a case in Brentwood, Washington," the young doctor began, deciding to start from the very beginning.

SPN

Hotchner looked down as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket and trilled. Morgan peered at him before returning his gaze to the road ahead. They had landed at the Bangor International Airport a half-an-hour ago and were now on their way to Bar Harbor.

"Yes Garcia?" Aaron asked, hoping that the Technical Analyst had good news for them.

"Sir, I've got it! I've got the report on the Winchesters' accident from Maitland!" Garcia told him excitedly, "It wasn't in their computer files yet. I had to call the Police Department and had the lovely young woman in 'Records' dig it out for me. She just faxed it over!"

Aaron gave a small- very small- smile, "Good work, Garcia. Morgan and I are just heading to Bar Harbor. We should be there in about an hour."

"Is there anything else you need me to do, Sir?" the Tech Analyst asked.

"We can't do anything with the report until we get the Winchesters' car," Aaron told her, "But could you please keep an eye on Reid? Make sure he doesn't get himself into trouble, especially with Agent Lamb."

"No problem," Garcia replied, "I will stick to him like peanut butter to jelly."

With that, the agent ended the call.

"Looks like its all coming together," Morgan said.

Hotch nodded, "Let's hope it doesn't all fall apart."

"Yeah," the other agent muttered before returning his attention to driving.

SPN

"Agents, what brings you here?" Chief-of-Police Christopher McMillian asked as he took in JJ and Prentiss standing in the lobby of his station.

"We're here to have a body exhumed," JJ told him, "We need a DNA test run to determine the identity of the individual."

"It's in connection to the murders committed by serial killer, Dean Winchester," JJ added as McMillian gave her a skeptical look.

"What? You want to dig up that son of a bitch's body?" the Chief-of-Police asked, his skepticism turning to suspicion.

"Dean Winchester," Prentiss spoke up, "And his brother Samuel, were recently apprehended by the FBI."

McMillian looked from one woman to the other.

"Really?" he asked, "I was there that night. Saw the body myself and it was that bastard's."

"Unless Dean Winchester has an identical twin we didn't know about," Prentiss continued, "There is someone else lying in the ground with his name."

McMillian shook his head, "You're sure its Winchester you've got?"

JJ nodded her head, "We're sure."

The Chief-of-Police sighed, "Shit. All right. Do you have documentation for me?"

The blonde agent handed him a form legally calling for the exhumation of Dean Winchester's body and a DNA test to be conducted, all cleverly forged by the Tech Goddess of the BAU.

McMillian looked over the document and nodded, "I'll make the calls."

Prentiss and JJ shared a look as the Chief-of-Police headed into his office. Everything was going as planned so far.

SPN

Agent Fan didn't know what to make of what Reid had just told her. First to hear that Sam and Dean Winchester were not a couple of murders and then to find out that monsters- bogeymen from her childhood nightmares- were real; was overwhelming.

Agent Reid had a reputation for being a rational man, a man of science, so this belief in the supernatural did not fit her view of him.

"I don't…" she began, trying to find the words, "I don't…"

"If you don't believe in monsters," Reid began, "That's fine, but believe me when I say that the Winchesters are not murderers."

Agent Fan shook her head, her long black hair swinging in her face.

"I'm just thinking of all the stories my Grandmother told me as a child," she told him, "I always thought they were just stories… tales to keep children from misbehaving or to grow up with good morals… and now they're real?"

Reid nodded.

Agent Fan took a deep breath and took a moment to run her fingers through her hair, a nervous tick she'd had since childhood, before speaking.

"Can I talk to them?"

SPN

Dean looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, wondering if that asshole Agent Lamb was returning to question him again.

Instead of the short, arrogant Agent Lamb, Reid stepped into view, along with one of the aforementioned asshole's goons, albeit the attractive one, but still.

Dean narrowed his eyes at the doctor.

"You're on Team Dickhead now?"

Reid's eyes widened, "I told Agent Fan everything. She saw what happened to Sam when Lamb interviewed him and-"

"What happened to Sam?" Dean interrupted, stepping up to the front of his cell and gripping the bars, "Is he okay?"

Neither agent was quick enough to respond.

"Tell me!" the hunter snapped, making both Reid and Agent Fan jump, the woman stepping back.

The doctor peered at Dean guiltily, "The last time I saw Sam, he was having an 'episode'. I tried to talk to him but he wouldn't respond."

The hunter glanced down, "Goddamn it."

"I'm sorry," Reid said, "I should have told you."

"This can't be happening," Dean muttered, "If Sammy thinks he's back in the Cage…"

The elder Winchester left the statement unfinished, afraid that if he did speak the words out loud, they would become reality.

"Maybe it's passed," the doctor suggested, "I could go check."

Dean nodded, giving the agent a beseeching look, "Please."

The hunter watched as Reid walked past his line of sight down the hallway, before turning his attention to the female agent.

"Your with Agent Douchebag," Dean said matter-of-factly, "So what are you doing with him?"

"Just because I work with Agent Lamb doesn't mean I like him," Agent Fan said, "He's a selfish, corrupt misogynist who shouldn't be in the field."

The hunter raised an eyebrow at the Agent.

"He cares more about his own reputation than anything else," she continued, "His coworkers or the people he brings in, who, despite being criminals, are still human and deserve a measure of dignity."

Dean said nothing. He had the feeling that the criminals the agent was talking about, who, despite their actions, were people, were Sam and himself.

The agent looked away from Dean for a moment before speaking again.

"Do you and your brother really hunt monsters?"

"Yeah," Dean affirmed, "We do. Not much different from what you and Doctor Reid do."

Agent Fan gave a small, nervous smile.

The sound of footsteps alerted hunter and agent to Reid's return. Dean looked at the younger man expectantly but the doctor only shook his head.

The hunter's heart skipped a beat and fear began to worm its way inside his gut.

"Sammy," he whispered, never feeling more powerless.

SPN

"Have you heard from Reid?" Rossi asked Garcia, standing in the doorway of her office.

The Tech Analyst swung around in her swivel chair to the senior agent.

"I thought he was with you," she asked, her eyes filling with concern behind her rhinestone-studded glasses.

Rossi shook his head; "I haven't seen him since Hotch asked him to go see Dean about his car."

"He can't have disappeared," Garcia said reasonably, "He has to be in the building."

Rossi nodded and then sighed, "I think I know where he is."

Turning around, the senior agent started down to the bullpen, his dark eyes narrowing suspiciously when Agent Lamb opened the door to his office and started down towards the elevators.

Picking up his pace, Rossi cut the other man off before he could reach the bullpen and grabbed Lamb by the hand, shaking it.

"What? What are you-" Carter Lamb stammered, his view of the elevators blocked by the taller agent.

"Congratulations on bringing in the Winchesters!" Rossi crowed with exaggerated enthusiasm, "What a way to make the rest of us look like shmucks!"

Agent Lamb nodded, his expression telling the older agent he clearly had other things on his mind than the praise of his coworkers.

The shorter agent struggled to pull his hand from Rossi's grip but he had a tight hold on Lamb's fingers.

"Excuse me, David," the agent began, "I'm about to meet someone-"

"I mean it, Carter," Rossi continued, "You're the next John Douglas, you really are."

Lamb nodded, "Thanks, but I-"

"I'll bet you've already interviewed them," Rossi continued to gush, "Tell me, what are they like?"

SPN

"What can I do to help?" Agent Fan asked Reid as they left the Winchesters- a difficult task for the young doctor- and headed towards the bank of elevators.

"It would be very helpful if we knew what Lamb was planning next for Sam and Dean," Reid told her, "Since we can't get involved ourselves, having someone close to him would be useful in the extreme."

Agent Fan smiled, "You want me to be a double agent."

Reid nodded, "Yes, exactly. You learn Lamb's next moves and report back to us so we know where we stand with gathering evidence and how much time we have to do so."

"I think I can do that," she told him and pressed the button on the panel next to the bank of elevators that would summon the lift.

SPN

Rossi finally released Agent Lamb's hand, now slick with sweat from being encased in the older agent's hold for a number of minutes, and stepped out of his way.

"Fan!" Lamb barked, barely giving Reid, standing only feet away, a glance, "Come with me!"

The female agent fell into step with her team leader as he continued his original trajectory towards the bank of elevators.

Once the two had vanished behind the burnished metal doors, Rossi approached Reid.

"You have a nice chat with the boys?" the older agent asked and the younger man instantly looked sheepish.

"I'm sorry, Rossi," he apologized, "But I found someone who can help us."

"I'm interested," Rossi said and Reid explained how Agent Fan had come to him with her concerns about Lamb and ended up in becoming a double agent.

The senior agent smiled and shook his head, "You're something special, Reid; something special indeed."

The younger agent gave a nervous smile and looked down when his phone vibrated.

"That's Agent Fan now," she told Rossi, reading the text she had just sent him.

Dave watched as the colour left Reid's face and he looked up, worry seeping into his brown eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked his young friend.

"Lamb's meeting with a psychologist," Reid told him, "He wants her to analyze Sam."

The doctor looked up from the text message, "Rossi, Sam's in no condition to talk to anyone, much less a psychologist. I saw him, not ten minutes ago. He's nearly catatonic. He's having one of his episodes."

Rossi frowned. This wasn't good; this was not good at all.

"C'mon, we have to call the rest of the team and let them know what's happening."

Reaching out, Rossi took hold of Reid by the elbow and guided the younger man up the stairs to where the offices and boardrooms were, steering the doctor into his office and closing the door.

Sitting down behind his desk, Rossi took his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Hotchner's number. After two rings the team leader picked up and Rossi greeted him, putting the conversation on speakerphone so Reid could talk to him as well.

The doctor quickly explained how Agent Fan came to him for help, how he had told her about the Winchesters' innocence and the woman's desire to assist the hunters. He told Hotch and Morgan how Agent Fan had agreed to tell them what Lamb was doing and how they had only just found out about a psychologist being brought in to speak to Sam Winchester.

"He needs Dean," Reid lamented, "He's having an episode… Remember the old factory where Black Annis was hiding?"

Hotch and Morgan said they did.

"How long has this been going on?" Aaron asked.

"I don't know," Reid answered truthfully, "But if I had to guess, it would be a while."

"We can't do anything right now," Hotch told him, "Not until we've gathered all the evidence."

"But Sam-" Reid began, only to be interrupted by the older agent.

"Even if the psychologist deems Sam unfit to stand trial there will be paperwork that needs to be completed," Agent Hotchner told him, "Which won't happen overnight, a week at the most, maybe longer, and then possibly a hearing to further prove that point."

"And by that time, Kid," Morgan spoke up, "We'll have convinced Strauss and Davis and the others that Sam and Dean are innocent. Don't sweat it."

Reid frowned, still clearly unsure that Sam wouldn't be locked away in a padded room that very evening, but he nodded.

"All right," he said, "Have you found Dean's car?"

"We're just about to the island," Morgan told him, "So it shouldn't be long now. We'll let you and Rossi know when we've found it."

"Thanks," Reid said and he and Rossi bade goodbye to their two other agents before calling JJ's phone to tell her and Prentiss the news.

SPN

Sam came back to reality slowly. It was not that he didn't want to return- even a cell in the FBI building in Quantico, Virginia was preferable to visions of Hell- but it was the memories of the Cage, which fought to keep their claws sunk in.

Like a man waking from a deep sleep, the hunter blinked blearily, having no sense of the time that had passed as he'd lain in his catatonic state.

"D'n?" he muttered, automatically seeking his brother.

Receiving no response, Sam came to alertness quickly, wide-eyed gaze taking in his surroundings as his mind worked to catch up and recall where he was and why.

Sitting up slowly, the hunter groaned as pins and needles shot through his arm from where he had lain on it.

Glancing around the small cell, Sam let out a relieved sigh when he saw that he was alone. Lucifer had not followed him out of his memories this time.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew the hunter further back into reality and moments later he was face-to-face with Dr. Kimberly Messer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Black Sabbath song.
> 
> The place that I decided Dean hid the Impala- the actual location is never mentioned in the show- is Little Tall Island (the locale where two Stephen King stories are set). I chose to pick one of King's fictional creations for the location of the Impala because in Criminal Minds Season 10, Episode 21 "Mr. Scratch"; Derry, Maine is mentioned as a town where the unsub committed a previous crime.
> 
> I am not sure who the Deputy Director of the FBI is in the show, Criminal Minds. I searched for a name but could not find one so I used the name of the show's creator. If there is mention of the Deputy Director's name (or even the Director) please let me know for future reference. Thanks.
> 
> Dr. Kimberly Messer is not a Criminal Minds character. I created her name by mixing two of the shows writers' names: Kimberly A. Harrison and Erica Messer.


	6. Schism

Sam Winchester regarded Dr. Messer silently. She was tall for a woman, above average height- around five feet seven inches- with long grey hair that reached her elbows. She had keen blue eyes and a lightly lined face.

The psychologist wore a cream-coloured cable-knit sweater despite the fact that it was summer, a knee-length brown skirt, tan stockings and low-heeled black shoes. In one hand she held a small brown case.

"My name is Dr. Messer," she spoke in a slightly husky voice, "I'm going to ask you some questions, if that's all right."

Sam's gaze slid away from the woman to land on Agent Lamb.

The short agent had a smug smile on his face that the hunter didn't like at all.

Addressing the psychologist, Sam spoke, "I guess I don't have much of a choice do I?"

SPN

Dr. Kimberly Messer prided herself on her ability to read people, to know intimate details about them without having been told. There wasn't really much of a trick to it, she had found, most of what she did was watch closely and take note of how people behaved- their habits and tics- the way they held themselves and fidgeted. The rest, of course, she gleaned from her questioning. But what was really important, was the silent tells her patients had, many of which they didn't even know they had.

As Dr. Messer, who had been a psychologist for nearly thirty years, walked with Samuel Winchester towards an empty interrogation room- Agents Lamb and Fan right behind them- she watched the young man from the corner of her eye, taking him in and forming a preliminary idea about the hunter.

Although Samuel Winchester was tall- over six feet- he hunched his shoulders and bowed his head slightly. He moved stiffly, as though in pain, but silently, while the federal agents' shoes made dull thuds on the tile floor of the hallway behind them. His face was pale and drawn, with dark stubble on his chin and cheeks. His hazel eyes were bloodshot and had a haunted look in them that both interested and horrified Dr. Messer. The young man's long chestnut-coloured hair was lank and greasy-looking from going unwashed for a number of days and the psychologist caught a whiff of body odour wafting from the hunter.

Agent Lamb seemed to believe that the older brother- Dean- was some kind of criminal mastermind, capable of eluding capture by law enforcement for years through elaborately faking his and his sibling's deaths but his opinion of the younger Winchester was significantly less. While speaking with Agent Lamb, Dr. Messer had learned that he believed Sam Winchester to be mentally unstable or even mentally disabled in some way. Either way, the FBI agent wanted to know whether the younger Winchester could be tried for his crimes.

As they reached interview room, Agent Lamb unlocked the door and the younger Winchester was ushered in first and made to sit at side of the stainless steel table.

Dr. Messer took the seat across from the young man, setting her briefcase on top of the table and opening, pulling out Samuel Winchester's file, a copy of which was given to her by Agent Lamb.

Noticing that the two federal agents remained in the room, Kimberly Messer cleared her throat.

"I'd like to speak with Mr. Winchester privately, if you don't mind."

A look of irritation crossed Agent Lamb's face for a moment before it vanished and he nodded.

"Of course," he said in his nasal tone, and took hold of Agent Fan's arm, guiding her out the door along with him.

Dr. Messer waited patiently until the agents had left the room before turning to the hunter, well aware that Lamb and Fan were more than likely watching both of them from behind the mirrored glass set into one wall of the interview room, listening anxiously for them to speak.

The psychologist turned her attention to the young convict and smiled. Sam Winchester did not return the gesture.

"As I mentioned before, I'd like to ask you some questions if that'd be all right with you," Dr. Messer told him, "Now, you don't have to answer every question but it would help the both of us a great deal if you did."

The hunter remained silent. He looked exhausted and like he would rather not speak at all, much less answer a series of questions designed to evaluate his mental stability.

"Now Sam," Dr. Messer began, "Is it okay if I call you Sam?"

"Fine," the young man replied quietly, his voice a little over a whisper.

"I'd like you to think of this as a conversation," the psychologist told him, her tone easy and calm, "I'm here to help you, all right, so you can tell me anything you like."

The young man frowned, his face closed-off, shutting down before Dr. Messer had even had the chance to ask him the first question.

Flipping through her copy of the young Winchester's file, the psychologist paused, "Your mother died when you were very young, still a baby, am I right?"

Sam nodded.

"How did she pass?"

Dr. Messer knew how Mary Winchester had died, having read the file, but she wanted to hear Sam's answer.

"An electrical fire," the hunter told her, without so much as a moment's hesitation.

Dr. Messer nodded and glanced down at the file on the table in front of her.

"It says here that after the fire your family stayed with a Mr. Mike Guenther and his wife for a couple of months. Then, your father left Lawrence. I know you were just an infant at the time, but do you know why your father moved away?"

Sam lifted his left shoulder in a shrug before speaking, "Lawrence just had too many sad memories for my father. I guess he couldn't bear to stay there anymore."

Again, Dr. Messer nodded and jotted a note down in the margin of her copy of Sam Winchester's file.

"Your father was an auto mechanic by trade, right?" she asked and Sam affirmed that true.

"Being a mechanic, your father should easily have found work in any town or city in Kansas. Why did he not just relocate to another part of the state? Why did he move around so much?"

Although the file didn't have a complete list of cities and towns the Winchesters had lived, the number of schools the brothers had been enrolled in, even under known pseudonyms, was extensive.

Sam turned his tired eyes on the psychologist, "I don't know. I never really asked him. Some people just get the travelling bug and instead of going to different countries, we constantly moved to different states."

Dr. Messer smiled, "At least your father had a profession that allowed him to find work anywhere you moved."

The hunter did not return the gesture.

"Now, I'd like to ask you some more serious questions," the woman warned.

Sam waited, his expression neutral.

"What was your home life like? What was your father's relationship like with you and your brother?"

"We moved a lot and that was never fun," Sam told her, "But it wasn't a bad way to live. Dad always made sure we never wanted for anything."

Dr. Messer watched the hunter closely as he spoke, noticing his shoulders tensed ever so slightly as he answered her question and he made sure to look her in the eye as he did so. She knew he was lying and trying to hide the fact that he was.

"Your father never abused you or your brother? I don't just mean physically; it could also be mentally or emotionally. He never hit you or yelled at you or tried to intimidate you, especially when you were a child?"

Sam shook his head, "No, he'd never do that. He could be stern sometimes but he never hit Dean or I. He never forced us to do anything we didn't want to do."

Again, Dr. Messer saw that the hunter was lying, or, at least not telling the whole truth.

"Sam, this is important," she told him, "I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth. You won't get into trouble if you do. I promise you."

The hunter narrowed his eyes at her and for a brief instant the psychologist felt a sliver of fear slide down her spine.

"My father never abused Dean or I," he repeated.

"Okay, Sam," Dr. Messer replied in a placating tone, pausing to write a comment down on the file.

"Let's talk about something else, then?"

"Good idea," the hunter replied.

"When you were eighteen you applied to Stanford University and were accepted, receiving a full scholarship."

Sam nodded and his eyes seemed to glaze over slightly as though with memories.

"You were at college for only three years, never finishing your law degree," Dr. Messer continued, "Your longtime girlfriend, Jessica Moore, passed away in early November of 2005 and you never attended anymore classes or showed up for an interview with a law firm you had scheduled."

Sam nodded, his misty-eyed gaze now turning cold, his eyes darkening.

"It says here Jessica died in a fire in the apartment you two shared," Dr. Messer said, "Not dissimilar to the way your mother passed away."

"According to witnesses," the psychologist continued, ignoring the hunter's increasingly grim expression, "your brother picked you up the Friday before the fire. You only returned to your apartment Monday evening, the same night Jessica died."

"What are you getting at, Doctor?" Sam asked, his expression telling her he knew the circuitous question she was trying to ask him.

"Again, witness reports state your brother and you were seen leaving the apartment building moments before the fire department was called."

Sam glared at Dr. Messer, his lips a thin, grim line.

"I'm just wondering," she told him, "If the fire began in your apartment, why did you not help your girlfriend out or call for help?"

The hunter looked aghast at the implication imbedded in that question.

"I did not kill Jess," he told Dr. Messer, his voice trembling as he did so.

"What about your brother?" she asked, "Did he set the fire and coerce you into leaving with him?"

Sam shook his head, looking shocked that the psychologist would even suggest such a thing.

"Why would Dean have any reason to do that?"

"Why would Dean have any reason to kill innocent people just trying to do their banking, or buy snacks at a convenience store or have a nice meal at a diner?"

"In fact, why would you do such a thing?"

"I did not kill those people," Sam nearly growled, "We weren't there! We didn't do that."

Dr. Messer's expression turned curious and sympathetic, "Then who did, Sam? Can you tell me that?"

Now she was getting to the real reason for the interview. She needed to know if Sam Winchester had murdered with full knowledge of his actions, completely aware of what he was doing and doing so of his own free will.

The hunter leaned back in his seat, his expression showing he was conflicted about the answer he should give.

"Sam," the psychologist said, "Please think about this seriously. If you did not kill all those people, who did?"

If the hunter told her that he had killed and knew exactly what he was doing, then he could expect to live out the rest of his days in jail or, alternatively, receive the death penalty because, of course he was responsible for his actions.

However, if he were in any way mentally challenged or unstable, then certain concessions would be made. If he had been pressured into killing, say, if Dean had threatened him to do as he said or suffer the consequences, or if he truly believed he hadn't murdered, then again, he could not be deemed guilty of crimes he'd committed under duress or as a result of mental instability.

"Did Dean force you to kill those people?" Dr. Messer asked, deciding she could rule out one of Agent Lamb's theories. Up until now the young man had engaged in conversation and answered all her questions in a way that did not suggest he had any cognitive disabilities but she felt obliged to ask and put the matter to rest.

"No!" Sam snapped, "He'd never do something like that!"

"Okay, okay," Dr. Messer said, "Please calm down."

Sam glared at her. The psychologist wondered how much more she could get out of him before he shut down completely.

"If Dean didn't force you to help him kill all those people than did you do so on your own?"

Sam shook his head, "We didn't do that. I can't tell you how, but we didn't kill them. It wasn't us."

"But there is compelling evidence, video evidence, that you and Dean were the ones who killed," Dr. Messer continued, feeling as though she were getting somewhere.

SPN

Sam knew he couldn't tell the psychologist the truth. That would land him in the loony bin for certain. But he could not tell her that Dean had forced him to murder all those people. The idea of agreeing to such a thing made his stomach turn.

"If you and Dean didn't kill those people, then who did, Sam? Who did?" Dr. Messer asked and leaned forward, her pen held at the ready to record his answer on the open file in front of her.

The hunter didn't answer. If he told her the truth, that Leviathans had disguised themselves as him and Dean and killed those people, he'd only be condemning himself.

Then again, if he refused to say anything, it would look just as suspicious.

He had two choices, say, yes, he knew exactly what he was doing when he'd shot those poor people in a killing spree and wind up in jail or in the electric chair, or tell her that monsters had murdered those people and earn himself a place in a rubber room.

He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

"If you didn't kill those people," Dr. Messer spoke up, "Then it was monsters, wasn't it?"

Sam stared at the psychologist.

"They wore your faces and shot all those people just to get you and Dean into trouble," she continued, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"No," Sam replied, the only thing he could think of to say.

"Well, that's what it seems like to me," Dr. Messer said, "If Dean didn't force you to kill those people and you didn't do so all on your own, why then, it must have been monsters."

The psychologist's tone took on a mocking quality and her smile continued to grow.

"Don't worry," Dr. Messer told him, "That just means you won't get to go to court like your big brother."

Sam said nothing, his mouth open slightly in disbelief at the woman's words.

"I wonder how Dean will do in a maximum security prison?" Dr. Messer asked and winked.

"But you!" she continued, her grin stretching even wider over snow white teeth, "Lucky boy, will have a new home at a psychiatric hospital! Maybe even one for the criminally insane, how does that sound?"

Sam stared at the woman, her smile growing wider and wider by the second.

"They'll make you wear a straight jacket and stick you in a windowless room and pump you full of drugs," Dr. Messer chuckled as she spoke.

"No," Sam said again, "No."

"And they'll give you electroshock therapy," she continued, oblivious to his growing fear.

"Stop," he begged, "Stop it."

"And a lobotomy," Dr. Messer's mouth was stretched impossibly wide in a Cheshire cat grin similar to that of a Leviathan.

"And you'll be all alone," she taunted, "No Dean. No Bobby. No one. Just you and me."

Sam's mouth opened in a silent cry of shock when Dr. Messer's face melted away to reveal Lucifer sitting across from him, smiling wolfishly at him.

"No," the hunter whispered, "No, you can't… you can't be…"

The Devil chuckled and nodded knowingly.

"I don't know about you, Sammy," Lucifer said, "But I can't wait."

SPN

Everything had seemed to be going well. Sam Winchester had answered Dr. Messer's questions coherently and with rational responses.

That was until she'd mentioned the evidence that seemed, without a doubt, to prove that he and Dean had gone on a shooting spree.

The young man's face had gone oddly blank and he seemed to be staring through the doctor rather than at her.

For a long moment the hunter said nothing and Dr. Messer wondered if he was going to remain silent when he suddenly spoke up, speaking a single word before falling silent again and staring past the psychologist with a look of growing horror.

"No," Sam said, than once again slipped into silence.

"Sam? Sam, are you all right?" Dr. Messer asked, quickly becoming alarmed.

"Can you hear me?" she asked, leaning forward, "Sam?"

"No," the young man replied, sounding not as he was answering the woman's question but speaking to someone else, "No."

"Sam!" Dr. Messer called his name sharply, trying to jolt him back to his senses.

This sudden shift was startling to the woman. She had worked with the mentally ill and criminally insane for many years but had never encountered anyone who had shut down as quickly as this young man had in the middle of an interview. The psychologist had thought that the young man's faculties were intact, that Agent Lamb was wrong, and the responses Sam Winchester had given to her first questions seemed to prove that but now, he was nearly in a state of catatonia.

"Sam Winchester!" Dr. Messer continued, trying desperately to bring the young man back to reality.

"Stop," Sam said in a pleading tone, "Stop it."

The psychologist wasn't sure how to respond. If she knew what the young man was seeing- what he was experiencing at the moment- she would have been better equipped to draw him out of his state. Helplessly, Dr. Messer attempted to reach the hunter.

"Sam, listen to me," she said beseechingly, "Whatever you are seeing, whatever you are feeling right now, it is not real. Can you hear me? Wherever you think you are, it's not real. It's all in your head. You aren't there."

"No," the young man whispered, his voice weak and tremulous, "No, you can't… You can't be…"

SPN

Prentiss and JJ stood side by side in the shade of a large oak tree at the back of Westmount Cemetery, watching grimly as the caretaker used a backhoe to remove the grass and soil from the pauper's grave containing what should have been the earthly remains of Dean Winchester.

On the opposite side of the grave stood Chief-of-Police McMillian, looking rather chagrinned. He watched the exhumation just as grimly as the two female agents, perhaps wondering how he was going to maintain the reputation of his department once the media got word that they had bungled the investigation and buried the wrong man, allowing a criminal to walk free.

SPN

Morgan staggered off the ferry and onto the dock, grateful to be back on dry land.

Agent Hotchner peered curiously and concernedly at his fellow agent.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked for the nth time since he'd seen his friend turn positively green as soon as the ferry had started to rock with the waves during the crossing.

"Yeah," Morgan muttered, "Just gimme a minute."

The younger agent was clearly embarrassed to be in such a state. He had tried to put on a stern face but his bravado had ended when he'd been forced to run to the restrooms to avoid being sick in front of the older man.

"You never said anything about having motion sickness," Aaron commented, his dark eyes going over the dock they were on, already seeking out the boathouse where Dean's beloved Impala waited.

"I haven't been since I was a kid," Morgan told him, "I thought I'd gotten over it."

With a sigh, Derek gathered himself and put on his game face.

"C'mon, we don't have a lot of time," he told Hotch and started down the dock towards the weatherworn buildings at the seaside.

SPN

"You heard what Aaron said," Rossi told a nervous Dr. Reid, "Sam's okay for now."

The younger man nodded but still didn't look happy.

He hated feeling so powerless. He hated that he couldn't help his friend.

"As soon as the others get back, we'll really be able to do something for the Winchesters," Rossi said, "We just have to be patient."

Reid nodded, "I'm just worried something will happen to them before we can get a chance to help."

The older agent shook his head, "Nothing is going to happen. If Lamb wants Sam taken to a psychiatric hospital, it's not going to be overnight, there's all that red tape to go through first. For the time being, Sam and Dean are staying here."

SPN

Dr. Messer jumped a little when the door to the interrogation room opened and Agents Fan and Lamb stepped inside.

Agent Fan was frowning and had a look of concern on her face while Lamb was struggling to keep the corners of his mouth from curling and a look of satisfaction from his eyes.

"I told you," The male agent crowed in a matter-of-fact tone, "Didn't I tell you?"

"Agent Lamb," Dr. Messer said, keeping sight of the younger Winchester from the corner of her eye, "You may find this humorous but I do not. Mental illness is nothing to laugh about."

The Federal Agent promptly forced his mouth into a frown, "Of course it is, Doctor."

"I am at a loss as to why you should think this is funny. Either way, this young man is looking forward to a future spent in a jail of one form or another, be it prison or a psychiatric hospital."

Agent Lamb cleared his throat and stepped forward, one hand reaching out towards Sam.

"I would advise against touching him," Dr. Messer warned, standing up and gathering the young man's folder into her case, "Doing so could only make the psychosis worse."

"He can't stay in here," Lamb argued, "We need to take him back to his cell."

"Than you should wait until there is a break and he returns to his senses," Dr. Messer told him.

"I don't have time for this," Agent Lamb argued and grabbed Sam by the upper arm.

The hunter's reaction was instantaneous and terrifying. His eyes widened and he let out a cry of bloodcurdling agony. Simultaneously he pulled away from the agent's hold, almost falling off his chair, hunching over and whimpering like an injured animal.

Agent Lamb stood still, his expression as shocked as Agent Fan's and Dr. Messer's. Now he saw what could have happened had he actually managed to touch the young man during his interview with him earlier.

Feeling it was her duty; the psychologist approached Sam and knelt down beside him. He might have been a murderer but right now he was in pain- be it real or imaginary- and she had to help him if she could.

"Sam? Sam, can you hear me?" she asked, being careful not to touch him.

"No…" the young man whimpered, "Please… No…"

"Agent Lamb isn't going to touch you again, all right?" Dr. Messer said gently.

Glancing up, the psychologist saw the female agent was watching silently, with moist eyes. Agent Lamb looked disgusted by the display.

Dr. Messer didn't care what the agent thought. Samuel Winchester was still a human a deserving of dignity, despite his crimes.

Returning her attention to the young man, the psychologist saw that the young man had his eyes closed tightly and that with his hands shackled in front of himself, was pressing his thumb down hard onto the palm of his left hand.

"Sam?" Dr. Messer tried again, "Can you hear me?"

The young man sucked in a series of deep, shuddering breaths before speaking.

"Y-Yes," he stammered.

"Do you know where you are?" she asked.

"Q- Q- Quantico," he stuttered.

"That's right," she praised, "Do you remember who I am?"

"Doctor," he answered, his voice becoming stronger, "Dr. Messer."

"Can you open your eyes?" she asked and Sam nodded.

Slowly, the young man complied and opened his eyes. His gaze flicked to something over the psychologist's shoulder before landing firmly on her face and remaining there. He pulled his hands apart and Dr. Messer saw a large scar bisecting his left palm.

"I…" Sam began, "Something happened."

It wasn't a question. Dr. Messer nodded.

The young man looked exhausted.

"Where's Dean?" he muttered, "I want Dean."

The psychologist frowned. Although he seemed to have come back to reality, the young man was still disoriented.

"Now can I do my job?" Agent Lamb asked loudly from where he stood.

"Would you give him a minute to orientate himself?" Dr. Messer asked.

Sam looked up and shivered.

"I know where I am."

The psychologist peered at the young man, confused because he had already stated he knew he was at the FBI headquarters.

"Where's that?" Dr. Messer asked and instantly regretted asking the question when the young man turned his haunted eyes on her and answered with a single word.

"Hell."

SPN

JJ and Prentiss watched as two officers from the St. Louis PD knelt before the exhumed casket and forced it open with crowbars, the wood and metal breaking with a reluctant crack. Lifting the lid of the coffin away, the police officers stepped aside.

Inside the unadorned casket lay a brown skeleton, the clothes in grey tatters, parchment thin skin that hadn't yet dissolved clinging to the visible bones. The smell of dust wafted strongly from the casket, the odor of decay still present but far less pronounced after the years of resting in the ground.

A lab technician from the police department, wearing gloves and no other protective equipment, stepped forward and gathered samples of skin and bone fragments for DNA testing.

Chief-of-Police McMillian turned to the two federal agents, "We'll have the results to you as soon as possible."

The agents thanked McMillian for his time and help, eager to return to Quantico, their job done for now.

"Let's hope Aaron and Morgan have the same luck we had," JJ commented to Emily as they walked back through the cemetery to their rented car.

"Let's just hope this is enough to prove Sam and Dean are innocent," Prentiss replied.

SPN

Sam's head swam with confusion.

He didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

He didn't know if his overtired mind was playing tricks on him or if he was still in the Cage.

He stared exhaustedly at Dr. Messer. He had thought she was real, that she really was a psychologist. That was until she'd turned into Lucifer wearing a disguise.

He hadn't even been aware that he'd been pressing on his scar, unable to reach his shoulder because of how his hands had been shackled, but he knew that something was wrong; the 'hand trick' wasn't supposed to work anymore.

So, the young man had decided that he must still be in the Cage, that this was some new cruel game Lucifer had devised and met Kimberly Messer's gaze with defeat.

"I know where I am," he told the fallen angel simply because he was too tired to play the game any longer.

"Where's that?" Lucifer asked, still holding onto the guise of the psychologist.

"Hell," Sam answered and waited for whatever was to come next.

SPN

"Excuse me," Morgan called to a teenager who was standing on the prow of a fishing boat, coiling a soggy, seaweed-coated rope around his arm.

"Yeah?" the boy asked and eyed the two federal agents with the suspicion only those who lived in isolated towns or villages harboured.

"We're looking for a man named Sonny Brautigan, do you know him?" Morgan asked the kid.

The teen stopped coiling the rope and narrowed his eyes, taking in Hotchner's suit and Morgan's black t-shirt and jeans with a mean expression.

"Who wants to know?"

Both Morgan and Hotch produced their badges, "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner and this is SSA Derek Morgan."

"Mr. Brautigan isn't in trouble," Morgan said quickly after the introduction, "We just need to ask him some questions."

"All right," the teen replied, "He'll be in there."

The boy pointed to what looked like an old cannery, its wooden sides weathered silver by the elements, its corrugated tin roof orange with rust.

"Thank you," Morgan replied and the two agents started towards the boathouse.

SPN

"How long will it take you to prepare your evidence?" Agent Lamb asked Dr. Messer as they rode the elevator towards his office. Agent Fan rode with them but did not speak. She waited impatiently for a chance to tell Dr. Reid and his team members what had just happened.

"A few days," the psychologist replied, "A week at the most."

"A week?" Lamb asked, one eyebrow raised in skepticism.

"I need to go over my notes and the case file carefully," Dr. Messer replied, "And, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like a copy of my conversation with Sam Winchester."

"Done," Lamb replied, "Anything I can do to help."

The two continued to speak about the hunter and his obviously unsteady hold on reality, Agent Fan only half listening.

"Agent Lamb, if you don't need me at the moment, I'm going to catch up on some paperwork," she told her team leader as the elevator stopped on the floor they needed.

"Whatever," Carter replied distractedly, apparently engrossed in Dr. Messer's talk of psychosis and schizophrenia.

The female agent slipped from the lift, peering over her shoulder to watch Lamb as he and the psychologist walked to his office. Once her team leader was out of sight, Agent Fan made a beeline for the bullpen where Agent Rossi and Dr. Reid were sitting.

"What happened?" the young doctor asked, the expression on Agent Fan's face telling him that something very bad had occurred.

W

"Sam can't go on like this," Reid insisted, "He needs his brother, I know he does. Dean's the only one who can help him."

The trio was in the same boardroom the team had been using earlier and now felt free to speak about the Winchesters without being overheard.

"You should have heard him… it was awful," Agent Fan said sadly, "And his face! He looked so sad, like he'd given up."

"Rossi," Reid turned to the older agent, "If Sam is kept away from Dean much longer he's going to have a complete break. He'll have another episode and he won't be able to come back from it."

The senior agent nodded, "I know, but there's no way we can get Sam and Dean in the same room without causing suspicion."

The three agents fell silent for a long moment, thinking, before Agent Fan spoke up.

"Maybe we can," she said.

Agent Rossi and Dr. Reid peered curiously at her.

"Most everyone leaves the building at night, right?" she asked and the two male agents nodded, "Except anyone trying to finish up paperwork."

"I'm sure that now that he has nothing to worry about, Carter will go home as well," Agent Fan continued, "And when that happens we can go down to the cells and bring Dean to Sam."

Both Rossi and Reid stared at her. The plan was so simple. Neither had thought to even consider it.

"What about the guard?" Reid asked.

"We're federal agents," Fan said with a smile, "Why would he question us?"

"She's right, you know," Rossi commented, "It could just work."

"We couldn't leave the brothers together for long, unfortunately, in case we were found out," Fan continued, "Just long enough for Dean to help Sam."

Reid appeared to be considering all the pros and cons of the plan and nodded, the chance to help his friend outweighing the concern about getting caught being involved in a case that was not theirs.

"When are we doing this?" Rossi asked.

"Tonight," Agent Fan answered with finality.

SPN

"Sonny Brautigan?" Agent Hotchner asked the elderly man sitting on a crate, smoking a cigarette.

"Ayuh," the man muttered, blowing smoke at the Agent.

"We're FBI agents," Hotch told him and both he and Morgan showed the man their badges, "You were paid a hundred dollars to hold a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala by Dean Winchester?"

Sonny squinted at the agents through a blue cloud of smoke.

"Fella never did give me a name," he told them, "But yup. I gotta Impala."

"We need it sent to Quantico, Virginia," Hotch said.

"Fella's not in no trouble, is he?" Sonny asked, "Seemed a nice young'n for a mainlander."

"He's not in any trouble," Aaron lied.

"We'd like to see the vehicle," Morgan said and Sonny nodded, standing slowly and arthritically.

The elderly man gripped one of the cannery's large sliding doors and shoved it open just wide enough for the men to slip inside. The building was large and dark, with small windows and cement floors. Massive metal screws sticking up from the floor show where machinery was once bolted down but now long removed. In place of cannery machines lay boats of various sizes and at the very back, covered by a greasy tarp, sat Dean's beloved.

Pulling the oily fabric back, Hotch peered at the license plate and nodded, "This is it."

Replacing the tarp, he turned to Sonny, "Whom can we talk to about getting this to the main land?"

The elderly man smiled at the agents toothily.

"I know just the fella."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a song by Tool.  
> According to Internet sources, a DNA test can take up to six months to complete! 30 days is apparently great and 60 days is acceptable. For the sake of the story, the DNA test on the bones in St. Louis will only take a day or two. I know this is completely erroneous and I do apologize but Sam and Dean just don't have a half a year to wait for results.
> 
> Sonny Brautigan, a character named in Stephen King's Storm of the Century, is a fisherman. I don't know how old he was in the movie so I made him a senior citizen for his cameo. If I've grossly misjudged how old he should be by this time- for any of you hardcore Stephen King fans- I'm sorry, my apologies.
> 
> Looks like things are starting to come together for the team. Let's hope they can convince those they need to that Sam and Dean are innocent, eh?
> 
> Please take a moment to leave a Comment or Kudos if you are enjoying the story and I will try and post again as soon as possible.


	7. Hey Brother

The wait until evening seemed one of the longest Spencer Reid had ever experienced. He paced around the boardroom like a caged animal, peering up at the clock on the wall every few seconds as though he could somehow force time to move faster, fueled with nothing but caffeine and anxiety.

"Why don't you sit down, Kid?" Morgan asked as he lounged in one of the chairs positioned around the large circular table in the center of the room, "You're gonna make yourself dizzy."

Reid shook his head and continued pacing.

Morgan and Hotchner had returned two hours and fifty-three minutes ago- Reid knew because he'd been watching the clock- followed shortly by JJ and Prentiss at three hours and ten minutes.

All four agents had been briefed on what had occurred during Sam's interview with Dr. Messer and Agent Fan's idea of having the brothers meet up that evening, after hours.

Although Hotch was reluctant to have his team interfering in the Winchesters' case anymore than they already were he couldn't say no to Dr. Reid. Especially when the young man gave a very convincing argument.

Agent Fan had left the team to rejoin her own, with the promise that she would text them when Peterson, Clayton and hopefully- and most importantly- Lamb left for the night.

Despite Sam's increasing breakdown, the team was confident in the evidence they had gathered that day. Morgan and Hotch had it on good authority that the Impala would arrive by tomorrow evening and JJ and Prentiss were certain the DNA test from St. Louis would be ready by the end of the week.

While they waited for the floor to clear out, the members of the team not pacing the room in agitation were going over the accident report Garcia had received from Maitland, Missouri.

"This is excellent," Rossi spoke up, handing the page he'd just finished reading to JJ, "Once Dean's car arrives, it will be even better."

Hotch nodded as he read but did not speak.

Reid, too wound up to read, continued to watch the clock.

W

At eight forty-nine pm Agent Fan sent Reid a text, letting him know that Lamb was finally leaving the building.

"Took him long enough," Morgan grumbled. As soon as he'd heard the plan, he'd insisted he go with Reid and Fan.

"Are you sure you want to go, Spence?" JJ asked and the young doctor nodded.

"Sam's my friend," he said, "Even if I can't help him, I feel like I should be there."

Morgan put an arm around Reid's shoulders, "I'm sure he'll be fine once he knows Dean's there."

The doctor nodded and the two agents moved towards the door, peering out into the empty bullpen, the lights dimmed for the night but not completely dark for anyone staying late.

Across the open space, the elevator doors opened and Agent Fan stepped out alone. She paused before waving in the direction of the boardroom to let them know the coast was clear.

Morgan opened the door and was nearly pushed aside by an overzealous Reid. The dark-skinned agent chuckled and was about to speak before he saw the determined expression on the younger man's face and decided now was not the time to joke.

Morgan followed Reid as the younger agent walked around the catwalk towards Agent Fan. Once they were within a range where she could speak without raising her voice, the female agent smiled slightly, "I didn't think Carter was ever going to leave."

"What took him so long?" Morgan asked.

"He was calling everyone he knew to try and get Sam's hearing moved up," Agent Fan's smile faltered, "It didn't really work though, since Dr. Messer hasn't even completed her paperwork yet."

Reid looked up sharply, his brown eyes slightly panicked.

"Don't worry, Kid," Morgan assured him, "Sam's not going anywhere. We'll have all the evidence we need by the end of the week and we can show it to Strauss and Davis as soon as it's ready, even if we have to stay over the weekend."

Reid nodded, looking a little more relaxed.

"I just keep thinking that Lamb's going to find a loophole and send Sam to a hospital sooner than we expect," he muttered.

"Well let's see if Dean can't help Sam tonight," Agent Fan said and pressed the button for the elevator.

Once the doors to the lift opened, all three agents stepped inside. The doors slid shut and the trio was carried down to a lower floor.

SPN

Dean looked up, surprised to see so many FBI agents standing in front of his cell.

"Uh… Are we having a party or something?" he asked jokingly as Agent Fan unlocked the door.

"Agent Lamb had a psychologist interview Sam today," she said, "And it didn't go well."

Dean frowned and peered anxiously at the agent.

"What happened?" Dean asked, fear in his voice.

"Everything seemed to be going well," Agent Fan told Dean, "But then Dr. Messer mentioned the video evidence against you and Sam, and she just lost him. It was as though he was having a conversation with himself or someone only he could see. He wasn't answering her and became even more agitated."

"What happened?" Dean asked again. Did Sam go catatonic? Did he have a seizure? He needed to know.

"Dr. Messer tried to talk to Sam," Agent Fan continued, "She tried getting his attention by saying his name but nothing was working. Then Agent Lamb and I came into the room."

Dean's face darkened and he crossed his arms over his chest, knowing nothing good could come of Agent Douchebag being in the same room as his brother.

"Lamb wanted to take Sam back to his cell but Dr. Messer told him he shouldn't, not when he was struggling," Agent Fan told him, "But Lamb ignored her and grabbed your brother's arm."

Dean sneered, hating the thought that the agent had touched his brother.

"After that, Sam seemed to get better," Agent Fan finished, "He appeared disoriented but he was speaking to Dr. Messer. We took him back to his cell shortly after that."

"I'm going to rip his lungs out!" Dean snarled, hating the arrogant agent even more by the second.

The agents gave the hunter concerned looks and Dean sighed, raking a hand through his short hair.

"Sorry," he muttered, "Its just… Knowing that agent has plans to send Sammy to a rubber room irritates me."

"Sounds like it does a little more than irritate you," Morgan commented.

"So what are you all doing here anyway?" the hunter asked, changing the subject.

"We're going to bring you to Sam," Reid told him and Dean's face lit up like a child's at Christmas.

The agents moved out of the way and Dean walked out of the cell, then turned, unsure of which direction to go.

"This way," Agent Fan said and started off to the left.

Dean followed right on her heels but then quickly overtook her.

Morgan and Reid looked at one another but let it slide, the man just wanted to see his brother and besides, they could have Garcia fix the security footage later.

Dean peered into every cell he passed, his heart hammering in his chest, desperately wanting to see Sam.

They passed so many empty cells the hunter had the sudden idea that his brother wasn't in one, that somehow his sibling had vanished without anyone knowing, and then Dean stopped.

"Sammy," Dean reached up and gripped the bars on his brother's cell, peering into the small space.

Sam was sitting on the metal-framed bed, leaning against the wall, his hair covering his face. He did not stir at the sound of his brother's voice.

"Sam!" Dean said, louder this time as the agents caught up with him, "Sammy!"

It's too late, a voice spoke in the hunter's head, sounding unpleasantly like Lucifer; you're too late, Dean.

As soon as Agent Fan unlocked the door, without even giving her a chance to pull the key back out, Dean shoved the door open and was at his sibling's side.

"Sammy," Dean murmured, reaching up to brush his sibling's hair away from his face. The younger man's eyes were closed but when he felt Dean's touch he looked up.

"Dean?" he asked quietly, "Is it-"

Dean smiled and put both hands on his brother's face, "It's really me, Sammy."

The look of relief in his sibling's eyes nearly broke Dean's heart.

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked and Sam lifted his right shoulder in a shrug, wincing in pain as he did so.

From the corner of his eye, Dean spotted the tray with his brother's dinner sitting untouched on it.

"Sammy, hey, you didn't eat anything," he said, once again looking into his sibling's face, "You have to eat."

Sam's glanced down, "I know. But Lucifer…"

The younger man didn't finish and Dean nodded, "I know, Sammy."

The older hunter sighed, "I can't stay long."

Sam looked up at him, his expression panicked, "But…"

"I can't," Dean repeated, "I'm sorry."

"Dean," Sam whimpered, his eyes growing wet. He lifted a hand to his brother's, "Don't leave me again."

The older Winchester swallowed painfully, "I have to, Sammy. Just for a little while. Then I'll be back and I won't leave you again. I promise."

"Dean," Sam spoke again but Dean shook his head, "Let me talk a minute."

"You doing the 'hand trick' on your shoulder?" he asked and Sam nodded, "I know I shouldn't but it helps."

"Keep doing it whenever you see Lucifer, okay? For as long as it works," Dean told him and Sam nodded, his eyes wide.

"And remember," Dean leaned forward so that his forehead touched his brother's, "We got you out. Right? So whenever that S.O.B tries to convince you otherwise, you tell him to go fuck himself."

Sam smiled slightly and nodded, "Okay, Dean."

"And Sammy," Dean stood up, not wanting to get the agents in trouble but reluctant to leave his brother; he kept his hands on either side of his sibling's face, "Please try and eat something and sleep when you can. Will you do that for me?"

"I'll try," Sam assured him, now standing too and following Dean as he turned, "Dean… Please…"

The older brother didn't turn around, his heart breaking every time his sibling spoke his name.

"I'll see you soon, Sammy," Dean told him, "That's a promise."

"Please don't go," Sam begged, his voice thick.

Dean stepped across the threshold and into the hallway. Without stopping he started down the corridor back towards his cell.

"Dean! DEAN!" Sam's voice called out after the group and the hunter had to force himself not to run back.

He'll be okay, he told himself, he's strong. He'll be all right for a few more days. It won't be that much longer. He'll get through this.

Back in his own cell, Dean lie down on his lumpy mattress and put his pillow over his head so he wouldn't have to listen to his brother anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a song by Avicii.
> 
> I know this chapter wasn't as long as the others, and nothing really exciting happened in it. But I thought that this would be a good place to stop. At least you guys and gals got some brotherly love in this chapter!
> 
> Please take a moment to leave Kudos or a Comment for some Winchester hurt/comfort!


	8. Ride the Lightning

Returning to the bullpen from the holding area, Agent Fan parted ways with Reid and Morgan, bidding them a good night and letting them know she'd keep them posted on Lamb's activities.

"We might as well do the same thing and call it a night," Derek suggested, stretching his arms above his head, "It's been a heck of a long day and I need a rest."

"You go on ahead," Reid told his friend, "I'll stay here."

"Oh no you won't," Morgan lowered his arms and frowned, "You need to sleep. You won't be able to help anyone if you're exhausted, Kid."

"But-" Reid began but Morgan cut him off, "No buts; you're going to go home and get some sleep and not worry about the Winchesters. They've taken care of themselves for years now and they can manage without you for one night."

Although the young doctor looked like he wanted to to argue again, he didn't. Instead he raked his hand through his hair and sighed.

"C'mon, we'll tell the others we're heading out," Morgan said and started off across the bullpen, towards the boardroom where the rest of the team waited.

"We're heading out," Derek told the gathered team members.

Hotch looked surprised at the news, "You too, Reid?"

The young doctor nodded.

Morgan smirked a bit, "After I had to strong-arm him into agreeing, that is."

Hotch peered at the others. Everyone looked tired.

"Let's all call it a night and come back tomorrow morning ready to-"

"Ready to kick ass," Morgan interrupted, "We'll have the car, it shouldn't be long before the DNA from the body in St. Louis comes in, and then we clear Dean and Sam's names once and for all."

Rossi smiled, "That's the spirit."

Chatting to one another about anything but their secret case, the team headed out of the boardroom and across the bullpen towards the elevators. Reid didn't join in the banter. He had a lot on his mind, more than his teammates' it seemed and more than anything, it seemed as though much more than just the lives of two brothers- two hunters- were at stake.

W

Alone in his apartment, Reid tried to distract himself. He put on classical music- Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata'- and picked up the book he was currently reading.

Try as he might though, the young doctor's mind would not be persuaded to dwell on another topic; it remained stubbornly focused on the Winchesters.

Maybe it was because the team was mostly involved with catching criminals instead of setting them free, or the fact that Sam had helped protect him from the serial killer Theodore Cunningham when they'd both been held prisoner or the young man's mental break reminded the doctor too much of his mother's own mental illness.

Reid had always prided himself of being of a sound, rational mind, and discovering the existence of monsters, real monsters like werewolves and vampires and poltergeists went against everything he believed. Being told that God- in whatever shape or form- actually existed, along with Heaven, angels, Hell and demons, was mindboggling. Up until meeting the Winchesters, Reid had thought of the idea of Heaven and God as a comforting lie believed by those who needed their to be some higher power guiding their lives, a reason for everything that happened in the world; the good and the evil.

Not that Reid thought a belief in a God or gods childish or foolish. He understood why people chose to believe in such things- he saw the reason for it every day- he simply relied upon science and measurable facts to comfort him through trying times.

But to have his very reality turned upside down, to find out that bogeymen truly existed outside of his childhood nightmares, Reid was shaken by the revelation. He hid his feelings from his team members; they didn't need to worry about him anymore than they already did and besides, there was nothing any of them could do to change what the Winchesters had told them.

Sighing, the young doctor ran a hand through his hair. He was tired and not thinking straight. Right now it didn't matter that monsters existed or not. What was really important was clearing Sam and Dean's names.

Turning off his CD player, Reid sat down on his couch and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

SPN

JJ hurried across the bullpen next morning, cursing herself for being late. She had had no intentions of staying at home as long as she had, but Henry hadn't wanted her to leave and Will had made them all a lovely breakfast.

It was only when her cellphone flashed an urgent text message from Hotch had JJ finally been pulled away from her husband and son.

Heart racing from her rush up to the correct floor and from nerves, the blonde flung open to the door of Hotchner's office to find Reid, Morgan, Rossi, Prentiss and Garcia already crammed into the small room.

"What is it? Did something happen to Sam or Dean?" JJ asked anxiously as she closed the door behind her.

Aaron shook his head, "They're fine."

The blonde agent sighed, relieved.

"But we have a case," Hotch added, solemn.

"A case?" JJ asked, "Now?"

"We knew this could happen," the Unit Chief said, reminding everyone they technically were not supposed to be involved in the Winchester's case at all.

"Can't someone else take it?" JJ asked, looking around at all the serious faces around her and already knew the answer.

Rossi shook his head, "We're stuck with it."

"If we refuse, Strauss will want to know why," Hotch added, "And we can't tell her about the Winchesters. Not yet."

"Can half of us go?" JJ asked.

"They need all of us," Morgan replied, looking as unhappy as JJ had ever seen him.

"I sent a message to Fan to let her know what's happening," Aaron told her, "She promised to keep us updated on Sam and Dean's case."

"Where are we going?" JJ wanted to know, feeling deflated.

"Idaho," Hotch answered.

JJ nodded and listened as Garcia gave everyone the rundown on what they would be walking into.

SPN

"Wheels up in thirty," Aaron told his team after their Technical Analyst had finished describing the crime they were about to stop in the Gem State and watched as they left his office to prepare for the trip.

Morgan was the last to leave the office. The younger agent looked at Aaron, "There's no way we can stay?"

Hotch grimaced, "The only way would be to tell Strauss our belief about the Winchesters' innocence. But without evidence, she would never agree. At best she'd tell us to get out of her office, at worst, we'd all be suspended for interfering with a criminal case."

Morgan scowled, "I just don't like the idea of leaving them here alone."

"They won't be alone," Hotch replied, "Garcia is here and so is Fan. Besides, they've been on their own for a long time before they met us and they seem to be doing fine."

Morgan snorted derisively, "Yeah, until they met us, they were doing great. Maybe it was us who got them into this mess in the first place."

Hotch opened his mouth to respond when the phone on his desk rang. Taking the phone from its cradle, he answered, "Agent Hotchner speaking."

SPN

Dean's car couldn't have arrived sooner, Morgan thought as he followed Aaron down to the basement where the vehicles involved in crimes were stored.

The team had cheered up a bit when Aaron had told them about the Impala and collected the accident report Garcia had managed to get from the Maitland Police Department.

At least now it felt like they could leave the Winchesters and not worry so much that they were not doing enough to help them. While they worked on the case in Idaho, Mackey- Quantico's go-to man for vehicular evidence- and his dedicated and talented team of technicians could gather together a report that proved that Dean's 1967 Chevrolet Impala was truly his and was not the one used by the Leviathans posing as the Winchesters during their murder spree.

"Mackey!" Hotch raised his voice as they approached the grizzled man who, Morgan thought with some humour, looked surprisingly like Sam and Dean's friend Bobby Singer.

"Agent Hotchner," Mackey replied in a quiet, raspy tone and approached the two agents, "Don't see you down here often. What can I do for you?"

"A car just arrived from Little Tall Island, Maine," Aaron told him, "A black 1967 Chevy Impala, license plate CNK 80Q3. Have you seen it yet?"

Mackey nodded, "Yeah, yeah, it looks just like the car those two brothers drove when they shot up all those poor people a few months ago… what was there name?"

"Sam and Dean Winchester," Hotchner offered.

"That's it!" Mackey replied, "But we've already got a car just like it… what I thought- what I was told- was theirs. What's with this one?"

"The one you already have bagged and tagged isn't really the Winchesters' car," Morgan spoke up, "The men who killed all those people wanted one just like the Winchesters' so everyone would believe they were murderers."

Mackey's eyes widened, "Really? No shit? Strauss seemed mighty pleased when she told us they'd been caught. Did she change her mind about them then?"

Hotch shook his head, "No. No one knows that they are innocent."

"Except us," Morgan added, "And now you."

"We need you to compare the cars to this accident report and write up your own report stating your findings," Hotch told Mackey, "We need to prove that the Impala that came from Maine was not the one seen at the crimes scenes."

Mackey nodded, "I can do that, no problem."

"You have to keep quiet about this," Morgan told him, "Don't tell Strauss or Agent Lamb or even the Deputy Director."

"My lips are sealed," Mackey assured them, "I'll only report to you."

"Good," Hotch said and actually smiled, ever so slightly.

"We're away on a case," Morgan added, "Don't know how long it will be, but if you finish your report before we return, you can send it to Garcia."

Hotch nodded, approving of Morgan's instructions.

"No rest for the wicked, eh?" Mackey asked and took the accident report from Hotchner.

"No there is not," Aaron muttered and the two agents left the basement, content in the knowledge that Mackey would keep the Impala a secret from any prying visitors while they were away.

As they rode the elevator, Aaron checked his watch.

"Let's go to the plane," he told Morgan, "The others won't be long."

SPN

Dean wanted nothing more than to knock the agent's teeth out. The smug son of a bitch sat across from him, a slight smirk on his thin lips, as he asked the hunter if he was finally ready to tell him how he and his brother had faked their deaths.

"You can stop pretending you didn't do it," Agent Lamb chided in his nasally tone, "You're not fooling anyone. Why not make it easier on yourself and just confess?"

"Why don't you go fuck yourself?" Dean snarled.

After what the agent had done, getting some psychiatrist to prove his Sammy was crazy, there was no way in Hell Dean was going to give the man anything he wanted.

Agent Lamb sighed and tapped the pen he was holding on the table, making a metallic tick-tick-tick noise that only added to Dean's irritation.

"Why make this hard on yourself? A judge and jury will go easier on you if you confess," Lamb advised, "They may even give you life instead of the death penalty."

The hunter kept his expression passive, betraying nothing. If Hotchner's team couldn't clear his and Sammy's names than Dean had made up his mind that he would not live without his brother. He knew that if Sam ended up in some maximum-security prison for the criminally insane or something, it wouldn't take long before his brother succumbed to the hallucinations and the nightmares plaguing him. Dean didn't think Sam was weak; far from it. Sam was doing all that he possibly could to keep the evil memories at bay but it was clear to everyone- even those who barely knew them- that Sam was very ill and to be separated from Dean would spell the end for him.

Dean, on the other hand, knew he could survive without Sammy by his side but did he want to?

No fucking way.

So, either he ended up in the electric chair or with the prospect of life imprisonment but one way or another, Dean was not going to continue on in a world without his baby brother.

"Believe it or not, I am trying to help you," Agent Lamb insisted, "Juries and judges go lighter on criminals who admit their wrongdoing and confess. It just makes for a longer, messier trial when the convict pleads 'not guilty'."

Dean's green eyes narrowed, "I'm hearing what you're saying, Agent, I really am."

For just a moment, Agent Lamb almost looked hopeful.

"But I'd rather rot in Hell than do anything to help you," Dean snarled. He meant every word.

SPN

Sam pressed himself as tight as he could against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his shins.

Sam was exhausted; his weary body crying out for sleep, his right shoulder screaming in pain, but not even rest nor physical discomfort could save him from the waking nightmare he was in.

Laying his cheek against his kneecaps, the hunter closed his eyes even though he knew there would be no rest.

"Please Dean," he whimpered, exhaustion and stress clouding his mind, "Come back."

Sam's eyes snapped open and he lifted his head so quickly the muscles in his neck spasmed in protest. Lucifer was on the other side of the cell, leaning against the bars, arms crossed over his chest nonchalantly.

"No," the young man ground out, "No, you're not real. You're not here."

As Sam spoke he raised his left hand and dug his fingers into his right shoulder causing pain to shoot down his arm.

The hunter gasped and his eyes watered. The vision of Lucifer blurred before him before fading away as though it were a mirage.

Sam sighed and laid his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

As the pain in his shoulder dulled- it did not dissipate entirely- Sam's vision began to blur again, but not with tears, and tunneled until he appeared to be looking through one end of a straw. Terrified, the hunter lifted his head away from the cinderblock wall and his vision darkened completely, consciousness swiftly leaving the hunter as well and he fell to the floor.

SPN

David Rossi sat back in the airplane's seat, settling in for a six and a half hour flight. Like the other members of his team, the senior agent was worried about the Winchester brothers. But unlike some members of his team- Dr. Reid in particular- Rossi took into account that Sam and Dean had looked after each other for many years before being arrested by Agent Lamb. Yes, the team needed to clear the Winchesters' names but they certainly didn't need anyone to hold their hand for them.

Rossi knew that more than likely, they would have time to return to Virginia after this case had been wrapped up and continue helping Sam and Dean. They already had Mackey going over the Impala with a fine-toothed comb and all they needed was the DNA results from the body in St. Louis. The younger Winchester seemed to be hanging in there; if just barely, but in reality, there was little Agent Carter could do about him at the moment. He needed to wait until Dr. Kimberly Messer's psychological evaluation was completed before there could even be discussions about a hearing to determine Sam's mental state and fitness to stand trial.

There hadn't even been any word yet from the governors of California, Colorado, Wisconsin and Missouri- where the Leviathans were- as to whether any of them wanted the Winchester brothers extradited to be charged under state laws.

Now that they were heading to their destination, the team quickly began a conversation about the murders that had occurred in the tiny town of Cygnet, Idaho. The town, built in 1893 around a large natural lake that drew large flocks of waterfowl such as ducks, geese, and swans- hence giving the town its name- and prosperous in its agriculture as a result of the vicinity of the body of water, was a quiet, friendly rural community. Its residents, mainly farmers of Amish and English descent, had been shocked and saddened to discover a killer in their midst.

Three bodies- two male and one female- had been found in a drainage ditch alongside a field of corn about a half-mile from the town. The victims, students from the local high school, had been tied with electrical cords and their mouths and eyes covered with duct tape. All three had been bludgeoned and stabbed.

"Even though all three victims went to the same high school, the police say they weren't friends," Prentiss spoke up, "They knew each other, of course everyone knows everyone in such a small community, but they didn't belong to the same social groups."

"The girl, Nicole Stiles, moved to Cygnet with her mother and younger brother about a month ago," JJ added, looking at the information Garcia had added to their tablets, on her own.

"Was her father in the picture?" Morgan asked immediately.

"He passed away when Nicole was eight from a brain tumor; her mother never remarried," JJ told them.

"What about the two boys?" Rossi asked, "Were they newcomers?"

Both of the women shook their heads, "Lucas Yoder grew up here, his family has a farm on the opposite town from where his body was found."

"He's Amish?" Morgan asked and JJ nodded.

"The third boy is Richard Tyler," Prentiss told them, "Like Lucas, his family has lived in Cygnet for years, both his parents were born here but they are not farmers. His father owns the bank and his mother works in the post office."

"There has to be a connection between them," Reid spoke up, "There always is, no matter how small."

"Let's wait until we get to Cygnet," Hotch told them, "We can talk to the local police, the victims' friends and family and examine the bodies for our-"

The Unit Chief was cut off as his cell phone trilled in his pocket. Frowning, Hotchner pulled the phone out and answered it.

He couldn't even greet the caller as whoever was on the other end began to speak. The agent simply listened, his frown deepening as he listened.

SPN

Carter didn't look happy. Agent Fan didn't blame him. He was used to being intimidating, used to getting the answers he wanted. Having the likes of Dean Winchester continually deny him and insult him had to be as frustrating as hell. Agent Fan didn't mind.

She stood behind the mirrored window with Peterson and Clayton, watching as their team leader futilely tried to persuade the hunter to divulge his secrets.

After ten minutes of questioning, badgering, and threatening, Agent Lamb stood up, a sign to his fellows that they needed to show up and help take the prisoner back to his cell.

Agent Fan followed Clayton and Peterson out of the small observation room and waited in the hall as the three men converged on the hunter. As she waited, Fan's attention was drawn down the hallway, where the younger Winchester's cell was. Not even aware it was happening at first, Agent Fan took a couple of steps in that direction and then stopped.

She could hear Carter talking to the other agents from inside the interview room and knew they didn't require her assistance or else Lamb would have snapped at her for loitering outside the door.

She had told Reid and his team that she'd look out for the Winchesters while they were in Idaho and she suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to go check up on the younger of the two.

Maybe it was her knowledge of his inner turmoil or her natural maternal instinct, but Agent Fan felt that something was not right.

Walking swiftly, the agent headed down the hallway before she could stop herself. Her heart picked up its pace as she approached Sam Winchester's cell and she gasped when she found him lying on the floor.

"Sam? Sam Winchester?" Stepping up to the bars and speaking quietly, she tried to get his attention or wake him up.

The hunter did not respond to the sound of his name.

"Shit," Fan muttered and turned, practically running down the hallway to the interview room.

The three agents were just outside the door, Peterson and Clayton holding Dean by the upper arms and Lamb following behind them.

Although she knew the elder Winchester would be upset by the news that his brother was in trouble, Fan could not wait until he was back in his own cell.

"Carter! Call the Medic," she snapped at her superior, "Sam Winchester's unconscious."

Dean turned his head so quickly he had to have given himself whiplash, "What? What's wrong with Sammy?"

Agent Fan didn't respond to him.

"Carter," she repeated, "You need to call the doctor or I will."

"What happened to my brother? Tell me!" Dean demanded, struggling in the agent's hold.

"You're sure?" Carter asked.

"Damn it, Carter, yes! He's lying on the floor of his cell. I tried calling his name but he didn't respond," Fan told him, "Something is wrong."

Slowly, clearly in now rush to do as he was asked, Carter pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

"Let me see him!" Dean demanded, "Let me see my brother!"

With the phone to his ear, Agent Lamb snapped at the two other agents, "Get him out of here!"

"Let me see my brother!" Dean snarled, "Let me see him! You can't do this!"

Agent Fan watched sadly as the hunter was half-dragged, half-carried down the hall by her team members, a lump in her throat. She didn't know what exactly had happened to the younger Winchester but she hoped he would recover.

"The Medic's on his way," Carter assured her and started down the hallway after Peterson and Clayton.

"Where are you going?" Fan asked.

"I have some paperwork to do," Agent Lamb told her, not even turning his head as he spoke.

SPN

Hotch ended the call and turned to his team.

"Sam Winchester is the infirmary," he told them, his tone somber, "Agent Fan found him unconscious on the floor of his cell."

Reid's eyes widened, "Do they know how that happened?"

Hotch nodded, "The infirmary doctor said he's suffering from dehydration and low blood sugar from not eating or drinking. Also severe exhaustion from lack of sleep."

"Can they help him?" Reid asked, his voice tense.

SPN

"I've put him on IV fluids," Dr. Ashfield told Agent Fan, "And given him a light sedative to help him sleep."

"Thank you," Fan said quietly because she couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I'll keep your team up to date on his condition," the medic told her and she nodded.

Peering at the younger Winchester, lying in a hospital bed, his arms cuffed at the wrists to the railings, face pale and unshaven with dark circles beneath the eyes, he did not look like a killer at all but a very ill man.

"Thank you, Doctor," Fan said again and then left the infirmary to relay the message to Agent Lamb.

SPN

"We can't worry about that right now," Aaron told his team in a warning, though sympathetic tone, "We need to focus on this case."

Reid's mouth twitched, as though he longed to speak but he held his tongue.

"Who's the Medic on duty?" Morgan asked out loud.

"Gene Ashfield," JJ replied after consulting her tablet.

Morgan smiled, "It's Ashfield, Kid. He knows what he's doing. He's patched me up after cases before and I'm good as new."

Reid didn't smile back.

"He's a good doctor," Hotch added, trying as well to alleviate some of the younger agent's concern.

"Okay," Reid muttered but he didn't appear placated. Hotch just hoped that his worry for the Winchesters wouldn't affect his performance in the field.

SPN

Agent Fan left Carter's office feeling sick to her stomach. Agent Lamb hadn't even acknowledged her when she'd given her the information from Dr. Ashfield. The man truly cared for nothing and no one but his own inflated ego.

Now no longer in the mood to do paperwork at her desk, Agent Fan took the elevator to the main floor of the building and walked outside, sitting down on one of the park benches distributed behind Quantico for the employees who still smoked or simply needed a breath of fresh air.

SPN

The jet bumped lightly onto the tarmac of Cygnet's tiny airport six hours later. All members of the team were grateful to get out and stretch their legs. Two large black SUVs greeted them and tiredly, the team clambered into them, hoping that the Cygnet Police Station was not too far away.

Morgan, Reid and JJ shared one of the SUVs while Prentiss, Hotch and Rossi took the other, driving single-file down a road lines with corn, soybean and potato crops.

"You okay, Kid?" Morgan asked his friend who was sitting in the shotgun position while he drove.

"I'm fine," Reid muttered.

"It's okay not to be okay," Morgan told him, "We all understand."

Reid sighed, "Do you really?"

"What do you mean, Spence?" JJ asked, peering at her friends from the backseat.

"I know you all worry about the Winchesters because they are innocent and may be charged with murders they didn't commit," Reid began, "And I know you worry about Sam because of his hallucinations and nightmares of Hell."

"But…" Morgan spoke up, "What is it?"

"I feel like I'm somehow responsible for Sam," Reid admitted, "I feel like I need to make sure he's safe."

JJ and Morgan frowned, "Reid, that's not your job… well partly, but not completely. Sure you'll feel as though you need to clear his name because we know they're not kill-"

"That's not it at all!" Reid exclaimed, startling both his friends.

"Than what is it, Spence?" JJ asked quietly, "Tell us."

"Back in Miller's Falls," the young doctor began again, "When I was prying, trying to get him to say what had happened to him-"

"That wasn't your fault," Morgan interrupted, "Dean said he'd been acting like that for a while before we met up with them again."

"I know, I know," Reid agreed, "But I feel like I shouldn't have been asking him those questions. I should have asked Dean if I was so curious, not pouring salt on already open wounds."

Morgan and JJ cringed at the metaphor.

"In Brentwood," the doctor didn't appear to notice his friends' expressions; "When Sam protected me from Cunningham I felt as though- and still feel now- that I need to repay him for that. He could have been killed, for me. A complete stranger and for all he knew, someone who wanted to arrest him for crimes he didn't commit."

"Oh Spence," JJ murmured.

Reid shook his head, "No, don't do that, JJ. I need to, want to repay him for the kindness he showed me."

"You can," JJ agreed, "But right now we have other lives we have to protect."

"Yeah, Kid," Morgan added, "Carter can't do anything right now until that psychiatric evaluation is filled out."

The young doctor sighed, "I know."

"Focus on this case now," JJ continued, "And in the meantime Agent Fan will keep us posted on Sam's condition."

Reid nodded, "Right."

"You did a good job recruiting her, Kid, you really did," Morgan grinned; "Maybe after this we could see if she'd like to join our team."

Reid smiled a little, feeling only slightly better. Morgan and JJ were right. Nothing was going to happen to the Winchesters until all the bureaucratic end of the process was completed, which could take weeks or even months, so he really could stop worrying about them.

Besides, he needed a clear and focused mind if he was the help the rest of his team solve this case and catch a killer.

SPN

By the time Agent Fan returned to her desk, she had a plan. It wasn't some grand scheme. Actually, it was almost a copy of the plan that had unfolded just the night before in the building. Once evening came and most of the employees left for the night, she would bring Dean to his brother.

SPN

Sheriff Kellerman shook hands with the BAU agents who entered his station, a grim expression on his face.

"We've never had a crime like this, never," he told them, "We're a small community and everyone knows everyone, looks out for everyone."

"We understand," Agent Aaron Hotchner said sympathetically, "There is a possibility that these crimes were not committed by anyone from the community."

"But they could be," Kellerman added. He may have been pushing seventy- far too old to be working, according to his wife- but in a quiet town like Cygnet, there was no reason to retire if he didn't have to.

"Yes," Agent Hotcher added, "I could also be someone from town."

"Let's hope its not," Sheriff Kellerman muttered and led the team into the small boardroom set aside for their use.

SPN

"JJ and Reid, you two stay here and interview family and friends," Hotch instructed, "And the witness who found the bodies."

"Prentiss and Rossi," he turned to the two other agents, "Go to the morgue and get the coroner's report than join JJ and Reid back here."

"Got it," Emily said and left with Rossi in tow.

"We'll look at the crime scene," Hotch told Morgan.

"My favourite part of our job," Derek said with a wry smile that was quickly quashed by a look from his Unit Chief.

Schooling his face back into a professional moue, Derek followed Hotch out of the boardroom, tipping a quick thumbs up to JJ and Reid before slipping out the door.

SPN

The building was much quieter once the majority of its employees were gone, the lights dimmed for the evening and the distant sounds of a janitor waxing the floors in some far off wing.

Agent Fan stood up from her desk, where she had been sitting for most of the afternoon upon returning to the interior of the building, and made a beeline to the elevators.

SPN

Dean was so angry he couldn't even see straight. Something was wrong with his baby brother and no one would tell him what it was. Even that Asian chick, Agent Fan, hadn't said a word to him as Dumb and Dumber had manhandled him back to his cell.

As Dean stewed in his cell and waited for someone, anyone to come by and tell him what had happened to Sammy, his mind had been at work, filling his brain with all the horrible ideas it could conjure.

Sam had finally cracked and was no more than a drooling vegetable….

Sam had been unable to take it anymore and had somehow committed suicide…

Sam was trapped in a nightmare of Hell and torture, unable to escape because his big brother wasn't there to tell him he was safe…

Dean curled his hands into fists so tight that his nails dug into his palms. He wanted to punch someone, preferably that Agent Carter asshole.

But no one showed up and Dean waited and waited, terrified that his brother was slipping away from him while he was trapped in this cell.

W

The sound of pert footsteps alerted the hunter to someone finally approaching.

"Hey!" Dean called, moving to the front of the cell and gripping the bars, "Who's out there?"

Agent Fan appeared, her expression grim, her dark eyes sad.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come back down and talk," she apologized, "Not until Carter left."

"Is Sammy all right? What happened to him? Where is he?" Dean asked. He wanted to be pissed at the woman but he just couldn't. She looked sincere and sympathetic.

"Your brother's in the infirmary," Agent Fan told him, "Doctor Ashfield is looking after him."

"What happened to him?" Dean repeated.

"Dr. Ashfield told me that your brother lost consciousness as a result of severe hypoglycemia and exhaustion."

"Hypo-what?" Dean asked, frowning. Whatever that was, it didn't sound good.

"Sorry," Agent Fan muttered, "Low blood sugar. If it's bad enough it can cause a loss of consciousness and even convulsions."

Dean drew in a sharp breath.

"Dr. Ashfield put your brother on an IV to get his fluids back up and gave him a sedative to sleep," the agent told him.

The hunter nodded, glad that his brother was getting some help.

He looked up, surprised, when the female agent unlocked his cell and opened the door.

"What are you doing?" he asked, unable to hide the suspicion in his voice.

"Taking you to see your brother," Agent Fan told him and smiled.

Dean returned the gesture and followed the agent down the hallway.

W

Sam looked like he usually did whenever he wound up in the hospital- pale, sickly- but for the handcuffs locking him to the bed. His sunken eyes widened at the sight of his brother and Dean smiled, glad that his brother was all right.

"He woke up about three hours after I gave him the sedative and I haven't been able to get him to sleep since," Dr. Ashfield said, speaking to Agent Fan.

"At least he got some rest," Dean muttered and moved to the side of the bed, unable to sit on the mattress because the rails were up but he didn't care.

"Have you had anything to eat?" Dean asked, his eyes tracking the IV line still in his brother's arm.

Sam's eyes grew downcast, "I can't, Dean. Every time I try…"

"You have to keep your strength up, Sammy," Dean murmured to him, "You know it'll only get worse if you don't eat."

"I know, Dean," Sam replied, lifting his gaze and pinning his older brother with his hazel 'puppy-dog' eyes.

"Could we have something for Sam to eat?" Agent Fan asked the doctor. The man nodded and left the room, leaving the door open.

"He's okay, right?" Dean asked, "He won't tell Agent Asshole about this will he?"

Not that Dean was afraid of Carter, but the agent seemed to have it in for Sammy and he didn't want his brother to get hurt because of him.

Agent Fan smiled, "Gene is a good man. He's a doctor first and an FBI employee second. He won't tell Carter about this."

Dean nodded before turning his attention back to his brother.

"How're you feeling? Any better?"

Sam lifted his left shoulder in a shrug, "Okay, I guess. He's not hanging around right now so that's something."

Dean nodded, knowing exactly whom his brother was talking about. Reaching out, he carded a hand through his brother's long hair.

Dr. Ashfield knocked on the door before stepping inside, holding a tray.

"It's not much because the kitchen is closed but it should be enough," he said, "You shouldn't be eating a great deal of food anyway, you could vomit."

There was no bedside table so Dean sat the tray on his sibling's lap. On it was a selection of yogurt, applesauce, fruit cocktail and a carton of milk and orange juice.

"What do you feel like, Sammy?" he asked, picking up a plastic spoon in one hand.

His sibling looked like the last thing he wanted to do was eat but Dean wasn't going to have any of that; Sam needed to eat something.

"C'mon Sammy," he said, "Choose something or I'll choose for you."

Sam peered down at the tray before muttered, "Yogurt, I guess."

Dean nodded and picked up the cup of yogurt, tore off its aluminum foil lid and stirred its contents to mix the fruit into the yogurt.

The hunter noticed Agent Fan move away discretely, giving them some privacy and talking to the doctor quietly, instead of hovering.

With Sam's hands cuffed to the bed rails, there was no way he would be able to feed himself so Dean set about the task as though he had done so a thousand times.

The older brother said nothing. There wasn't anything to say. Sam was ill and needed help and Dean would do what he was able.

As he assisted his sibling with the yogurt, Dean noticed that Sam's gaze kept moving away from him to peer at something- or someone- over his shoulder. It wasn't the Agent or the Doctor; they were to the right of the brothers.

"Ignore it, Sam," Dean said quietly, sternly, "Don't look at it. Look at me, instead."

Sam's gaze slid slowly back to his brother's face and Dean smiled.

For a few more moments there was no sound until the scraping of plastic on plastic could be heard and Dean set the empty yogurt cup back onto the tray.

"You feel up to eating something else? Maybe some fruit cocktail?" Dean asked and although Sam looked dubious, he nodded.

The older Winchester peeled off the plastic top on the cup and stirred the fruit around in its juices for a moment.

"You still keeping your eyes on me?" he asked his brother, even as his own gaze was downcast.

There was a brief pause before Sam answered with the affirmative.

"Good," Dean muttered and took up a piece of pear on the plastic spoon and brought it to his brother's mouth.

The cocktail seemed to be going down as well as the yogurt and for a moment Dean allowed his attention to be drawn to Agent Fan and Doctor Ashfield. He couldn't believe that the woman, who barely knew them from a hole in the ground, seemed so sure about them. He guessed Dr. Reid had done a fantastic job convincing her that they were not crazed killers. The hunter smiled at Agent Fan's back, his gaze slowly travelling down and he wondered if she had a boyfriend.

A wet, choking sound brought the hunter's focus back to Sam with a start. The younger man forcibly spit out a piece of peach, the segment landing with a splat on the tray, covered in saliva.

"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed, "Are you okay?"

It was clear that something was wrong; Sam's sunken eyes were dark and his face was pale. His gaze was pinned to something over Dean's shoulder again.

Dr. Ashfield and Agent Fan rushed over.

"Is he all right?" "Is he choking?" "What happened?"

"'M not hungry," Sam slurred and closed his eyes momentarily.

"Okay Sammy," Dean murmured, "Sure. No problem."

Turning to the doctor, Dean asked him if he could give his brother anything to help him sleep.

Dr. Ashfield nodded, "I can try a sedative again."

"No," Sam argued.

"Sammy," Dean turned to his brother, "You have to sleep, man."

The 'puppy dog' eyes made an appearance again but Dean wasn't about to back down.

"Sam, you're exhausted," he said sternly, "You have to sleep. Dr. Ashfield will help you get some rest."

Sam muttered something unintelligible.

"What?" Dean asked, leaning closer to his brother.

"I'll have nightmares."

The older Winchester didn't know how to respond. Sam needed rest; of that there was no doubt, whether he had nightmares or not.

"You need sleep," Dean told him, reaching out and carding his fingers through his brother's hair once more.

"You're going?" Sam asked, his eyes wide and fearful.

"I can't stay all night," Dean said, his heart breaking, "Someone might see."

"Please don't leave me, Dean," Sam begged, his voice turning to a whimper, "Please don't leave me alone."

"I'll be back if I can, Sammy, I promise."

"Dean, Dean," Sam continued, "Please stay. Please don't leave me alone."

The older brother closed his eyes for a moment.

"Can you give him something now? Please," Dean asked the doctor and when he opened his eyes again Gene was using a needle to add what was most likely a sedative into Sam's IV bag.

Almost instantly dark purple eyelids began to close over tired eyes and Dean let out a sigh of relief. Agent Fan touched his arm, "We should go."

"Yeah," Dean muttered, "Sure."

The walk back to his cell was awful, with a heavy heart, Dean allowed himself to be separated from his brother, his brother who clearly was on the edge of sanity and begging for his strength and support. But Dean couldn't stay with him as he would if they were in a normal hospital. Dean wished he could but there was no way around it. He should be grateful Agent Fan had even brought him to his brother in the first place.

He sat heavily on his narrow bed, hands between his knees and head lowered as he listened to the door to his cell lock. It was going to be a long night.

SPN

Emily Prentiss raised a hand to stifle a yawn as she walked into the Police Station early on the morning of the team's second day in Cygnet to find her co-workers already sitting in the boardroom, drinking coffee and eating donuts while discussing the case.

The dark-haired agent paused in the doorway.

"Come on in," Rossi made a come hither motion with one hand, "The coffee's hot and the donuts are fresh."

Prentiss stepped into the room and looked to JJ, whom she had shared a motel room with.

"You didn't wake me up?"

The blonde gave a self-conscious smile, "You looked like you needed the rest."

Prentiss couldn't help but scowl, "And none of you did?"

Morgan however, cut the increasing tension, "You know us, Emily, we're night owls."

Prentiss sighed and shook her head, "Sorry, its just this case- those kids- it makes me so angry… and not being in Virginia to help Sam and Dean."

"We know," JJ told her, "We all feel the same way."

Taking a cup of coffee from the cardboard tray on the table, Emily sat down in an empty chair, "So what's the plan of action for today?"

W

On the evening of the first day in Cygnet, Idaho, the team had gathered in the Police Department's boardroom to share the information they had gathered.

After interviewing everyone had seemingly ever had a connection to the three dead teens, JJ and Reid could say with confidence that Nicole, Lucas and Richard had been well-liked, well-adjusted kids who never caused any trouble in school or in the community.

Nicole was used by many of the families in Cygnet as a reliable babysitter and house-sitter. She had a gaggle of girlfriends who she was close to- none of whom could think of anyone who might want to hurt her- and she did well in school, though not well enough to make the Honour Roll.

Lucas Yoder was a responsible boy who, when not in school, could be found on the family far, doing chores and helping his father and brothers. He had a small group of friends- all Amish themselves- and had an average performance in school.

Richard Tyler, the final victim, was on the football team, had a girlfriend by the name of Elise McCrery and managed to scrape by in school with a C+ average. Despite that his teachers liked him and had nothing derogatory to say about the boy- he may not have been college material but he had a big heart- and he could play football well, which endeared him to the faculty and staff.

Prentiss and Rossi had found out from the coroner's report that all three victims had extremely high amounts of Baclofen in their systems- a muscle relaxant used to help those suffering from disorders such as Multiple Sclerosis- and that was most likely what had killed them. The injuries sustained from the blunt force trauma and stabbing had occurred post-mortem. Either the killer knew he or she had given the teens a deadly amount of the drug and attacked them anyway- perhaps to lead investigators astray from the true cause of death- or had known they were dead and was angry enough to mutilate their bodies even after death.

The teens had also been dumped in the drainage ditch; they had been killed elsewhere. Morgan and Hotch had searched the immediate are for evidence and had found a dozen small items such as cigarette butts, candy wrappers, a used condom, and an empty party balloon but it would take time before they could connect any of it to the killer or killers, if at all. As well, the Police Department had taken molds of the numerous tire tracks going to and from the dump site but without much hope that they would be connected to the crime because of the amount of vehicles that passed by the area on a daily basis.

The owner of the field hadn't been of much help either. He lived on the far side of the dumpsite where the bodies had been found so he had no recollection of seeing any vehicle stop for any amount of time within the past few days, as the crops blocked his view of the road. No one had driven through his field or onto his property either.

"I want to interview the teachers, and other staff at the school," Hotch told his team, "JJ and Reid, can you do that?"

The two agents nodded, Reid looking as though he were about to fall asleep in his cup of coffee.

"You think maybe a teacher killed those kids?" Morgan asked.

"Right now everyone is a suspect," Aaron affirmed, "We can't rule anybody out."

"Prentiss and Rossi, you two go to the local drug store and see if the pharmacist has prescribed Baclofen to anyone in the past few weeks," Hotch instructed.

Morgan looked to Aaron expectantly.

"We are going back to the dump site," Hotch told him and Morgan couldn't help but sigh.

"I want to go over everything again," Aaron said, "I want to be certain we didn't miss anything."

SPN

"Damn it," Dean growled, "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

He stood up from his cot abruptly, not able to remain still for very long and walked to the front of his cell. Every instinct in his body was telling him he needed to be with his brother but under the current circumstances, that was impossible.

The look of fear and sadness in Sammy's eyes before the sedative the doctor gave him took affect broke Dean's heart. Ever since Cas had ripped down Death's wall, he had never been far from his brother if he could help it and being unable to be at Sam's side now was killing him.

All he could do was wait for Agent Fan to give him updates on Sam's condition and hope that the BAU team had enough evidence to clear their names.

Turning away from the bars of his cell, Dean settled into restless pacing, trying to work off some of his anxious energy.

SPN

"What do you think we're going to find that the local police haven't already?" Morgan asked Hotch, not to be rude but out of genuine curiosity.

"I don't know," the older agent muttered as he pulled the SUV to a stop on the opposite side of the road from the dumpsite and took the keys from the ignition.

"But something about this doesn't seem right to me."

"Hm," Morgan muttered, "Three dead teens just starting their lives isn't right."

"I think someone living in Cygnet killed those teens," Hotch spoke up as he exited the vehicle.

Morgan raised an eyebrow as he likewise, exited the SUV.

"But you said earlier it could be anyone," he reminded the older agent.

Hotch nodded, "No one wants to hear that someone they see every day on the street, someone they work with, or go to social events with, is a murderer. Especially in a small town where everyone knows everyone else."

"But this seems too planned," Aaron continued, "For it to be a random act or the work of a drifter."

Morgan nodded, "Could be a travelling serial killer. Look at Ted Bundy or Angel Maturino Resendiz."

Aaron didn't reply. Instead he walked to the edge of the drainage ditch where the victims had been found and peered into it, his gaze taking in the crushed grass and flattened earth where the bodies had lain.

"All three victims were well liked," he muttered, "No problems at school or home."

"That's what friends and family said, yeah," Morgan agreed, crouching down beside Aaron.

"But everyone has their secrets," Hotch added, "Everyone has a dark side they try to hide."

"What are you thinking?" Morgan asked, eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun and in suspicion.

"I think we need to find out what these three were like when no one else was around," Hotch told him and stood, taking his phone from his pocket.

Punching in the number for their Technical Analyst, Aaron greeted her, "Garcia."

"Oui, Mon Capitaine?" the Tech Goddess answered in a chirpy tone.

"Did any of the victims have social media accounts?" Hotch asked.

"Did they? Sir, it's the twenty-first century, I'm sure even Emily's cat has a Facebook account," Garcia answered and Hotch could hear the quiet sounds of fingers hitting the keys on a computer keyboard.

"Only Nicole Stiles and Richard Tyler had numerous social media accounts, including Facebook, Snapchat, and Instagram."

"Not Lucas Yoder?" Hotch asked. As a member of the Amish faith, it would make sense that the teen had no access to a computer at home and so, no social media presence.

"Actually, this is interesting," Garcia told him, "He did have a blog where it appears he wrote about his life in a small-town Amish community. He has over one thousand readers."

"Can you see where he wrote his blog from?" Hotch asked.

"It'll take me a few moments but I will get back to you on that, Sir," Garcia replied.

"After you've done that," the Unit Chief added, "I'd like you to go through Nicole and Richard's social media accounts and let me know if they were involved in any suspicious activity."

"Can do," Garcia answered, "I'll keep you posted on any unwholesomeness I find."

Hotch ended the call and turned to Morgan, "Hopefully Garcia can find something we can use."

SPN

"Are you sure there's no way to speed up the process?" Carter asked Dr. Messer, in regards to the psychological evaluation she had performed on Sam Winchester.

"These things take time, Agent Lamb," Kimberly reminded him, "They can't be rushed. They need to be done right."

"Can you at least give me an idea of when your report might be ready?" the agent wheedled.

Kimberly sighed audibly, much to the annoyance of Agent Lamb.

"A couple of weeks," she told him, "Maybe even a month."

"That long?" Carter exclaimed, "But you know as well as I do that that boy is batshit crazy!"

"Agent Lamb," Dr. Messer replied in a warning tone, "I'll ask you to keep your language civil. The evaluation takes as long as it does for two reasons; one, because it must be agreed upon by a team of mental health professionals, such as myself, that the subject is indeed suffering from an illness and two, because it must be proven that he is unable to stand trial as a result of that illness."

The FBI agent grumbled something unintelligible to Dr. Messer in his frustration.

"All right," he replied, "Fine. If that's how it has to be than I guess that's just how it has to be."

"That's how it has to be," Kimberly agreed, "Is there anything else I can do for you, Agent?"

"No, no," Carter answered, "Just get that evaluation finished."

He hung up the phone without saying anything else.

SPN

"Sir, I have the IP address Lucas Yoder uses when he writes his blog," Garcia's voice announced happily over the phone.

"Where?" Hotch asked. He and Morgan were still at the dumpsite, the younger agent not visible at the moment because he was searching the cornfield near the drainage ditch for possible evidence.

"Cygnet High School," the Tech Analyst replied, "And I have some information on Nicole Stiles and Richard Tyler's social media activities."

"Tell me," Aaron instructed, his gaze growing to the seven-foot tall corn stalks in front of him.

"Both Nicole and Richard post about the usual teenage interests: boys, parties and friends for Miss Stiles and sports, girls and parties for Mr. Tyler… but, here's the interesting thing, I found some derogatory comments on their Facebook and other social media accounts about a boy named Christopher Eastley."

Aaron frowned, the name Garcia mentioned sounded familiar though he wasn't sure why.

"Do you know who he is?" Aaron asked.

"Christopher Eastley doesn't have any social media presence at all but I was able to find out that he is the son of Cygnet High School's principal, Lynette Eastley."

That was it. Now Hotchner realized why the name was familiar. Lynette Eastley had been interviewed the day before along with the other faculty members who worked at the high school.

"What kinds of messages were being posted?" Aaron asked Garcia.

The Tech Analyst cleared her throat, "On a scale from Rude to Tormenting, I'd say the comments were closer to the lower end of the scale but still, not nice. Just last week Nicole messaged one of her friends how this Christopher boy was always staring at her and she found it creepy. In earlier posts, she's also called him 'weird', 'ugly' and a 'freak'."

Aaron frowned; he knew people, especially teenagers, could be cruel to one another, but even name-calling could be just as harmful to a young person's self-esteem as other forms of harassment.

"Richard Tyler had a picture of Christopher Eastley on his Facebook homepage with the word 'SPAZ' written over it in PhotoShop. I'm sending you that picture now."

Lowering his phone, Aaron saw the photograph of a teenage boy with ash blond hair and blue eyes sitting in a motorized wheelchair. At first glance, the agent did not see anything physically different about the boy but then he noticed the teen's fingers were curled into claw-like positions and that his feet were clad in socks only, his toes pointed downwards and his arch unnaturally high.

"What about Lucas Yoder?" Aaron asked the Tech Analyst.

"I read his blog but couldn't find anything about Christopher Eastley on it," Garcia told him.

"Okay," Aaron replied, "Thanks."

"No problem, Sir," she answered and ended the call.

"Morgan!" Aaron raised his voice and within seconds the younger agent appeared from the cornstalks, a slightly concerned expression on his face.

"Is everything okay, Hotch?"

The older man nodded, "Yes, but we need to ask Principal Eastley a few questions about her son."

Morgan quickly followed Hotch as he made a beeline towards the black SUV, aware from the Unit Chief's tone that there just may have been a breakthrough in the case.

SPN

Reid closed his eyes and leaned his head back for a moment, exhausted.

"Is that all?" he asked JJ.

"I think so… wait," the blonde agent answered and the young doctor opened his eyes.

"We haven't interviewed Lynette Eastley yet," JJ told him, peering at a list of the staff they had been given, "She's the principal."

Reid watched as she stood and peered out the door of the staff room where they had been conducting interviews so that the education of the young minds of Cygnet could continue without interruption.

"She's not there," JJ informed him.

"Call down to the office," Reid suggested.

As the female agent did just that, the doctor felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and trill. Seeing that it was Morgan calling, Reid answered immediately.

"Morgan, what is it?"

"Have you and JJ interviewed Lynette Eastley yet?" his friend asked.

"No, we are just about to," he answered.

"Good, keep her in the staff room," Morgan replied.

Reid frowned, "Did you find something?"

"We-" Morgan began but JJ interrupted, drawing the doctor's attention.

"Lynette Eastley isn't here," the blonde told him, "She left for lunch and hasn't been back."

Reid stared at her for a moment, "And no one thought to tell us?"

JJ lifted one shoulder in an 'I know as much as you do' gesture.

"Morgan, Lynette Eastley isn't at the school. She left for lunch and hasn't been back."

"How long ago did lunch end?" Morgan asked.

Reid glanced at the clock on the wall, "About twenty minutes ago."

"Shit," the other agent swore.

"Do you need help?" Reid asked.

"No, you and JJ stay at the school," Morgan replied.

Suddenly Aaron Hotchner's voice spoke up, "Ask if there is Christopher Eastley present."

JJ, having heard the request, nodded and called down to the office again. After a moment or two to ask the secretary if the boy was at the school she got her answer and confirmed that Christopher was indeed in the building.

"Have his teacher send him to you," Hotch instructed.

"What's going on?" JJ asked.

"I think Lynette and her son are connected to the murders," Aaron told them and ended the call, leaving JJ and Reid to look confusedly and helplessly at one another.

"I'll have Christopher sent here," the blonde spoke after a moment.

SPN

Barely two minutes after climbing into the SUV, Aaron's phone began vibrating and trilling. Since he was driving, Morgan answered, putting the cell phone on speaker. It was Prentiss and Rossi.

"Have we got some info for you," Rossi greeted.

"What is it?" Aaron asked.

"The pharmacist does have someone with a prescription for Baclofen," David continued, "As well as Sorbitol and Naltrexone."

"Let me guess," Morgan spoke up, "Is it Lynette or Christopher Eastley?"

"Yes," Rossi answered, "How did you-"

"Nicole Stiles and Richard Tyler were using social media as a platform to bully Christopher Eastley," Hotch told them.

"The drugs are for Christopher," Rossi continued, "The pharmacist told us, but are in his mother's name because he is still a minor."

"What are those drugs for?" Morgan asked. He hadn't seen the picture Garcia had sent to Aaron's phone but had been told by the older agent that the boy was likely confined to the wheelchair as a result of some debilitating illness.

"He has Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease," Prentiss spoke up.

Both Morgan and Hotch looked at one another.

"Go back to the Police Station," Aaron instructed, "We'll call you back."

Morgan ended the call and looked to the Unit Chief expectantly.

"Call JJ and Reid."

SPN

Garcia frowned as she read over Lucas Yoder's blog, starting from the very beginning. There was nothing about Christopher Eastley or even any mention of school in the writings at all. Lucas Yoder's blog focused on his family, his farm and his chores. That was all.

There was no way anyone could have even remotely believed his comments to be derogatory to anybody.

"But than again," the Tech Analyst whispered to herself, "Some people don't need to hide behind the Internet to make cruel remarks."

SPN

"Why am I here? I didn't kill Lucas or Richard or Nicole," Christopher complained, staring moodily at JJ and Reid.

"We're not saying you killed anyone," JJ told him, "But we need to know where your Mom is."

The teen looked somewhat surprised but then frowned, "I don't know."

SPN

"What kind of car does she have?" Aaron asked the Tech Analyst, driving slowly down the streets of Cygnet.

"2001 Dodge van," Garcia answered, "Lime green. It'll have a Handicapped Tag in the window."

"Thanks," Morgan replied and ended the call.

In a residential area, the two agents kept their eyes peeled for any sign of the vehicle.

Then, just as they were about to turn the corner, Morgan spotted something from the corner of his eye; a garage door opening to reveal a lime green van.

"Stop!" he cried out and Hotch instantly slammed on the brakes.

Opening his door, Morgan pelted out of the SUV and towards the house where the van was, idling in the garage.

"LYNETTE EASTLEY! FBI! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"

The driver's side door of the van opened slowly and a plump woman wearing a plum-coloured suit emerged, her hands over her head and a scowl on her face.

"Face the vehicle," Morgan instructed and pulled his handcuffs out with one hand, the other gripping his weapon.

Lynette Eastley did as was asked and stepped up to the side of her van, keeping her hands above her head.

"You're under arrest for suspicion of murder," Morgan informed the principal as he cuffed her.

Hotch took one of Lynette's arms while Morgan took the other and they led her back to the SUV, giving her Miranda Rights as they went.

SPN

"Lynette Eastley?" Sheriff Kellerman asked the agents when he found out about the arrest. The whole team was back at the Police Department, meeting with the Sheriff.

"Yes," Hotch confirmed, "Only she and her son could have had access to the Baclofen that was found in the victims' bodies."

"And she had the motive," Morgan added, "Nicole and Richard were posting abusive comments about her son on social media."

"But what about the Yoder boy?" Sheriff Kellerman asked hopefully, clearly believing that the entire case would crumble if they couldn't answer how the Amish teenager had bullied Christopher Eastley.

"Teenagers don't need social media to bully," Prentiss reminded him, "It can happen just as easily in the classroom or on the school yard."

The Sheriff shook his head, "I just can't think… Lynette's such a lovely woman, a strong woman, taking care of her boy all on her own. Her husband left her once he found out about Christopher's disabilities, you know."

"I know it's hard to believe," JJ admitted, speaking in a sympathetic tone, "And although we need Lynette herself to fill in the gaps, we feel as though we have a pretty strong case against her."

SPN

"How is he doing, Doctor?"

Gene Ashfield glanced over at Sam Winchester lying in bed, silent.

"He's been quiet all day," he told Agent Fan, "For the most part, not saying a word except to mutter in his sleep."

The FBI agent nodded.

"Has he eaten anything today?"

"I'm afraid not," Dr. Ashfield told her, "But I'm hoping that the IV fluids are enough."

"When do you think he'll be strong enough?" she asked, not finishing the sentence 'to return to his cell'.

"Another day or two," Gene said, "I'd like him to get more sleep if he can. It's the lack of sleep that's hurting him the most."

Agent Fan nodded, "Thank you, Doctor."

Before leaving the infirmary, her gaze turned to the hunter and she saw that his eyes were open and staring at her.

SPN

"Chris didn't have anything to do with those murders," Lynette told the agents, "He's a good boy. He wouldn't hurt anyone."

"So how did the Baclofen get into the systems of Nicole Stiles, Richard Tyler and Lucas Yoder?" Morgan asked, sitting beside Hotch and across the table from the Cygnet High School principal.

Lynette sneered, "Those kids, always looking down their noses at Chris- and he never did anything to them! He asked that Stiles girl to the Freshmen's dance back in the ninth grade and she told him 'no' and that Tyler boy- he was the worst of the two! Making fun of poor Chris."

"What about Lucas Yoder?" Aaron asked.

"That Amish boy? That was an accident," Lynette told them, "He was never supposed to be there."

"What did happen, Lynette?" Aaron continued.

"I told the Stiles girl and the Tyler boy I needed to see them in my office after school," she told them, "That they were to receive special awards."

"I made some snacks for them," Lynette informed the agents.

"With Baclofen in them," Hotch said. It wasn't a question.

The Principal nodded, "No matter how cruel they had been to Chris, I didn't want them to suffer. So I put the Baclofen into the cookies and punch and waited for them to eat."

"Was Lucas Yoder there?" Morgan asked.

Lynette shook her head, "No, he didn't come with them. I didn't even know he was still at the school. I had moved both the boy and girl into my car and when I came back I saw he was in my office… and that he'd eaten the cookies that were left."

"I couldn't leave him there," she continued, "He was a nice, hardworking and quiet boy. But I couldn't let him live after that."

"So you put him with Nicole and Richard and then what? Did you know they were dead already?" Morgan asked.

Lynette shook her head, tears forming in her eyes, "I cleaned up my office, got rid of the cookies and punch. When I came back, they weren't breathing."

"I hit them and stabbed them in the parking lot," she told them, "And then I drove to that field. I was so angry at them."

"How did you manage to give them so much Baclofen?" Morgan asked.

"I took it from Chris' prescription," she told them, "I replaced the pills with aspirin and he never knew the difference."

Morgan and Hotch looked at each other. This hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment killing; this had been planned well in advance, premeditated.

"I'm sorry the Yoder boy died," Lynette told them, "Both those other two…they deserved what they got. If only I was stronger and had made them suffer like they made my Christ suffer."

Standing up, Hotch and Morgan left the interview room, meeting with Sheriff Kellerman as they did so.

"I just don't know what to say," the Sheriff muttered, "I don't know what to think."

"It doesn't get any easier," Hotch told him.

"But at least you know she won't be able to hurt anymore kids," Morgan added.

The Sheriff nodded, "I don't know how to thank you fellas."

Hotch smiled slightly, "It's our job."

Before any other words could be spoken, the Unit Chief's phone vibrated and trilled in his pocket.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said and picked up the phone, answering it.

SPN

Reid could hardly sit still. Rarely was he this anxious about anything. It had been a long night; after formally handing Lynette Eastley over to the Cygnet Police Department and hearing from Hotch that the DNA sample from St. Louis had finally arrived, the team had had reason to celebrate.

Once they were back at Quantico and Mackey's review of the Impalas was complete, they could finally clear the Winchester name once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a song by Metallica.
> 
> As far as I know- with minimal research from the Internet- the states where the Leviathans killed those people (California, Wisconsin, and Colorado) do not have the death penalty. Missouri, however, does have the death penalty in the form of lethal injection or gas chamber.
> 
> Ted Bundy had victims in Colorado, Florida, Idaho, Oregon, Utah and Washington. Angel Maturino Resendiz road the railroads in Mexico and the United States and had victims in both countries.
> 
> Please take a moment to leave Kudos or a Comment.


	9. The Man Behind The Mask

Sam forced his gaze to remain on Dr. Ashfield as the man pottered around the infirmary, determined not to look at the figure perched at the end of his bed.

"Sam," Lucifer said and the hunter pretended he hadn't heard.

"Sam, you can't keep ignoring me," Lucifer continued, "You know what happens if you do that."

The hunter bit the inside of his cheek but made no response.

Dr. Ashfield, perhaps feeling the young man's eyes on him, turned around, "How are you feeling? Better?"

Sam, not trusting himself to speak, nodded.

"Can I get you anything? Anything to drink or eat?"

Sam was thirsty; the inside of his mouth felt as dry as cotton, but again he shook his head, certain that Lucifer would make good on his threat and he'd end up with a mouthful of blood or something equally unpleasant liquid to drink.

Dr. Ashfield nodded and returned to his task.

SPN

"I'm going to see how Mackey is doing," Hotch told his team as they completed their paperwork for the case they'd just solved.

"Do you think he'll be ready?" JJ asked, brushing her long, blonde hair over one shoulder.

"I haven't heard from him," Hotch said, "But I'd like to know how much longer we have to wait. The sooner we can get the evidence in to Strauss and the Deputy Director, the better for the Winchesters."

JJ nodded and returned to filling out her paperwork. She could feel the anticipation radiating off her team members and was certain she exuded the same emotion.

Five pairs of eyes followed SSA Hotchner as he walked through the bullpen and towards the elevators that would take him to the basement.

"Has Fan texted you recently?" Morgan asked Reid and the young doctor shook his head, "No."

"I'm sure she'd tell you if something was wrong," Morgan assured him.

"Yeah," Reid muttered, not sounding convinced.

JJ smiled at her friend, hoping all this would end so she wouldn't have to see the young agent fretting all the time.

"Remember," Morgan whispered, "Sam and Dean can take care of themselves. I'm sure they're fine."

SPN

Dean couldn't remain still. One moment he'd be sitting on his bed, the next he'd be at the front of his cell, peering through the bars before pacing around the small prison a few times.

Sure he had been concerned for his sibling before, but now that Sam was in the infirmary, it only made things worse.

Dean was almost always around to look after his brother when he was sick- he certainly had been Sam's shadow these past few weeks when the hallucinations had started getting worse- and to not be with him now, to comfort him and let him know he was safe tore at the older brother's heart.

He knew there was nothing he could do. He just hoped that Dr. Ashfield was as good a man as Agent Fan said he was.

"Hang in there, Sammy," Dean spoke out loud as though directly to his sibling, "We'll get out of here soon."

SPN

"Agent Hotchner!" Mackey called out as he turned in his seat at a low table placed against the wall and well away from the vehicular evidence.

"How are you doing with the cars?" Aaron asked as the man stood and wiped the oil off his hands and onto his navy blue dickies.

"I'm all done with my examination of both Impalas," Mackey told him, "Jus' have to write up a formal report."

Hotch smiled, "Thank you."

"No problem," the technician said and shook the agent's hand, "Always happy to help a friend."

SPN

"Sam," Lucifer said, his voice as hard as eyes, "Stop ignoring me."

For a split second, the hunter turned his gaze to the fallen angel, sitting cross-legged at the end of his bed, before frantically seeking out the reality of Dr. Ashfield as he filled out some paperwork at his desk.

As Sam watched, the good doctor turned in his swivel chair to face the hunter, sat up ramrod straight in his chair and brought his pen abruptly up to his face, plunging its pointed end directly into his eye socket, deep enough to cause the fluid to seep out of the orb and down his face.

"Stop!" Sam snapped as Dr. Ashfield pulled the pen from his injured eye and buried it into his second one.

"Stop it!"

The pen was pulled from the second eye socket with a wet sucking sound and stabbed into Ashfield's throat. In the background, Sam could hear Lucifer laughing.

"Stop it! Enough!" Sam shouted, hands balled into fists, unwilling to take his gaze from the self-mutilating doctor, despite how horrific a sight.

Dr. Ashfield yanked the pen from his throat and stabbed his neck a second time, blood spurting from the first wound in bright red arcs.

"I SAID STOP IT!" Sam tore his gaze away from the doctor and looked directly at the vile creature perched at the end of his bed.

Breathing heavily, Sam felt himself shaking. Lucifer smiled back at him and suddenly Dr. Ashfield was at his side, whole and unharmed, asking him if he was all right.

"I'm fine," Sam replied hoarsely, roughly, "I'm okay."

"You're lying," Lucifer commented, "Even he knows it."

The Devil pointed to Dr. Ashfield and the man had a syringe in his hand.

"You need to calm down," he was telling Sam, "Let me give you something to help you relax."

Sam started to shake his head but then stopped and sighed. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he was out of it for a while, at least he might be so dazed that he wouldn't know or care about Lucifer or any other hallucinations.

The sedative worked quickly and Sam closed his eyes, allowing the drug to cloud his mind and hoped that maybe he could get some rest before it wore off.

SPN

"We should be able to go to Strauss tomorrow," Hotch told his team when he returned from his visit with Mackey.

The other agents smiled and it felt as though a dark cloud had been swept away.

"Don't relax quite yet," Aaron warned, "We still need to meet with Strauss and Deputy Director Davis and convince them that the Winchesters are innocent."

"That might be easier said than done," Rossi added, "Especially if Agent Lamb has anything to say about it."

"He won't be there when you meet with Strauss and Davis, will he?" Reid asked, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"It's his case," Hotch reminded him, "He has to be there."

"Who's getting the honours of fighting on our team?" Morgan asked.

"I'd like JJ to come with me," Hotch told them, "As she has the most experience with this kind of situation."

The team agreed that the blonde agent should join Aaron in pleading the Winchesters' case because of her experience as liaison for them.

"Let's finish up our paperwork and then call it a night," Aaron suggested, "We could all use a good night's rest."

SPN

Sam's arm ached from where Adam's fingers dug into it but the hunter didn't care. The boy- and really, Adam still was a boy, eighteen when he'd been so cruelly cut down by a pair of vengeful ghouls- was terrified and needed the support and comfort hi older brother provided.

Sam was glad that he wasn't alone in his suffering, however selfish and awful that sounded. He was sure he'd have lost his sanity long ago if it hadn't been for Adam, letting him know none of this was his fault, letting him know that he didn't blame Sam for what had happened.

"Sam," Adam whispered, his grip on his half-brother's arm tightening enough to make the hunter wince, "I- I can't go any further… I'm scared."

The teen's eyes rolled in his head, taking in the façade the Cage had taken; a sick funhouse maze in some serial killer's carnival. The floor was slick, whitish-greyish membrane streaked with purple veins; the walls a bright red of corded muscle, throbbing as with a heartbeat; the ceiling was pitch black, its true height unfathomable, with intestinal looking organs hanging down from it, dripping mucous. It felt as though they were walking through the insides of some giant beast.

"We can't stop," Sam reminded his sibling, gently, "If we stop, they'll find us."

Adam looked at him with incredulous eyes, "They always find us."

Sam sighed and took a step forward, his shoe squelching on the organic floor.

"Then at least if we keep moving, they won't be able to find us as quickly."

But the younger man was exhausted and terrified and traumatized and could move no further. A snot-green glob of mucous felt from the ceiling and landed on Adam's shoulder, trailing down his already stained jacket. His lip trembled and Sam feared for a moment he was about to start sobbing.

Instead, the teen's knees buckled and he sank to the slimy floor.

"Can't we just stop? Please, for a minute or two? Please?" he begged.

Sam, feeling just the same as Adam- as though any second something would happen that would break his grip on his sanity and he'd forever be lost to this madness- stood firm.

"We've got to keep mov-" he began, taking the stern tone his father was wont to use if his sons- usually his youngest- even dared question his orders, but stopped short when he heard the telltale sound of feathered wings flapping.

"Get up!" Sam hissed and grabbed at Adam's jacket with both hands, "They're coming! Get up now!"

The eighteen-year old's eyes widened with fear and he wrapped his hands around Sam's forearms, his feet slipping and sliding on the wet floor, unable to find purchase.

"I can't!" Adam exclaimed, panicking.

Sam dug his feet into the soft floor and pulled at Adam's jacket with all his strength, knowing that it might be too late.

"Get up," he demanded, "Get up! Damn it!"

Sam's hands were ripped away from his sibling's jacket as he was bowled over by something extremely heavy- as though an elephant or transport truck had just run into him- and he was thrown across the ground, rolling on the damp floor. Dazed, lying on his front, Sam raised himself up onto his elbows. Adam was still sitting down but this time about a dozen feet away.

"SAM!" Adam cried and struggled to stand, digging the toes of his shoes into the squishy floor and clawing at it with his hands.

The hunter was about to rise further, trying to get his feet underneath his body when a searing line of pain scored across his back and he cried out in agony, driven back onto the floor. Rolling to one side, Sam saw Lucifer standing over him, grinning quite literally from ear to ear. A long, jagged blade the length of a sword was gripped in one thin-fingered hand.

"SAM!" he heard his brother cry out again he lifted his hands just in time to prevent his face from being cleaved in two; the blade sinking into his forearms instead.

Hot blood- his blood- spattered Sam's face and neck and he gritted his teeth in agony as the blade was ripped away from his flesh, metal grinding on bone.

Sam, not about to give up, even here in the Cage, lifted his legs and kicked at the fallen angel, catching the creature in the knee.

Allowing himself a moment- only a moment- before the next attack came, Sam rolled back onto his front and forced himself up onto his hands and knees, his breath coming in ragged drags, almost sobs as he fought to get to his feet than maybe, just maybe he'd have a chance to escape. At least for a little while.

A strong hand gripped the back of the hunter's coat and started to drag him back.

"No!" Sam shouted, as he twisted and fought the hold.

"SAM!" Adam cried, "SAM!"

The hand continued pulling back and Sam was drawn up to his knees, the grip leaving his jacket only to move to the long hair at the back of his head. Sam hissed in pain as his neck was pulled back and he froze when he felt Lucifer's icy breath on the side of his face.

"This is your punishment for disobeying me," the fallen angel told him in a sibilant whisper, "This is your due and its never going to end."

The hand continued pulling backwards until Sam grew unbalanced and landed in the prone position, Lucifer's fingers knotted in his hair.

"SAM! SAM!"

The fallen angel began moving away, dragging the hunter behind him, stronger than any mortal man.

"SAM! DON"T LEAVE ME!" Adam cried desperately but Sam was helpless to do as his sibling asked. He had no more energy. He had lost his fight.

"DON'T LEAVE ME!"

"Adam!" Sam called out, trying to let the teen know that, as horrible and painful and torturous as this was, it never lasted forever, that they always managed to find each other again, because maybe that was what the angels wanted, to tear them apart, again and again. For all eternity.

"ADAM!"

"Adam!" Sam called his brother's name one last time and his eyes snapped open, forgetting for a split second where he was and why he couldn't freely move his arms when all he wanted to do was grab the younger boy and hold on and never let go.

"No! No!" Sam cried, struggling in the hospital bed, seeing but not comprehending the handcuffs attaching his arms by his wrists to the bedrails.

"No! Let me go! Please!" Sam begged, "I can't do this! Not again!"

"Sam! Sam!" a male voice very close to his ear spoke his name and the hunter flinched.

Lucifer, it was Lucifer.

"Sam, it's all right, you're safe," the voice told him in a calm, warm tone, nothing like the fallen angel's cold tones.

Cautiously, from the corner of his eye, Sam took in the man who had spoken and recognized the kind face of Dr. Ashfield. Presently the hunter began to calm down, his breathing slowed and his heart rate lowered.

"You were having quite a nightmare," the doctor said, "Can I get you anything?"

Sam licked his dry and cracked lips; it felt as though he hadn't had a drink in days.

"Can I have some water?" he asked quietly and the doctor nodded, "Of course."

Dr. Ashfield left Sam's side to go get him water and the hunter let out a shuddering sigh. He leaned his head back against the pillows on the bed, realizing only now that the pain caused by the hateful sword Lucifer had been wielding, was gone, was now only a memory.

The doctor returned with a paper cup of water and helped Sam to take a couple of sips of the cool liquid.

Once he'd had enough, the hunter cleared his throat, "How long was I asleep?"

Glancing at his wristwatch, Dr. Ashfield told him he'd been out for almost forty-five minutes.

"Forty-five minutes," Sam repeated in a mutter, catching sight of movement from his peripheral vision and saw Lucifer sitting at the end of his bed.

"You didn't kill all those people," Dr. Ashfield said matter-of-factly and Sam turned his head to face him.

"What?" he asked.

"No man who can cry out like that," the doctor told him, speaking carefully, "With so much pain and sadness in his voice for another man, could do what you are accused of."

Sam said nothing for a long moment before speaking four words.

"He was my brother."

SPN

Stepping into her apartment, Emily turned on the foyer light and was greeted by Sergio, the mackerel tabby mewling and rubbing himself against her legs.

"Hey," she smiled and bent down, picking the cat up and bringing him to her face, nuzzling his soft fur against her cheek. Sergio began to purr, his tail flicking back and for the happily.

"How about some dinner?" she set the cat down and moved to the kitchen, going into the cupboard to get a can of food.

"Meow," Sergio said and once again began to rub himself against and twine his body through Emily's legs.

"I know, I know, it's coming," the agent murmured as she pulled the tab on the lid of the cat food and opened it, scooping half of its contents onto a saucer with a spoon.

Setting the saucer on the floor, Emily watched as Sergio crouched in front of it and began eating with gusto.

Finding herself a bit hungry, she opened the fridge and picked an apple, sitting at her kitchen table as she ate.

SPN

Aaron Hotchner, after spending the remainder of his day after heading home following the completion of his paperwork, kissed Jack on the forehead as his son lay settled in for bed.

"Goodnight Dad," the boy murmured quietly.

"Goodnight," Aaron replied and smiled, pulling the blankets gently up to his boy's chin.

Jack smiled back and rolled over onto his side, his back facing his father and sighed, quickly falling asleep.

The Unit Chief straightened up and took a moment to peer around his son's room, wondering briefly if Dean Winchester's room had looked similar before the fire that fateful night.

Shaking his head, Aaron left the room and closed the door softly behind him.

Heading downstairs, he joined Jessica in the kitchen.

"There's some coffee left in the pot if you want it," she told him but Aaron shook his head.

"I'm all right," he told her.

"How was Jack?" he asked instead.

His sister-in-law took a sip from her own mug of coffee before answering.

"As good as gold."

Aaron smiled.

There was a pregnant pause and Jessica frowned.

"Aaron, are you all right?"

"Hm?" he muttered, "Oh, yes. It's nothing, just this case we have."

"You're on a case?" She asked.

Aaron sighed, "Well, of a sort. We are working to prove the innocence of two convicted criminals."

Jessica frowned, "That's not like you. Usually you catch the bad guys, not try and help them."

Aaron didn't say anything for a long moment and his sister-in-law thought he wasn't going to speak again.

"They've helped us with a couple of cases in the past," he told her, "And the team and I believe they've been framed for these crimes they're accused of committing."

Jessica nodded but Aaron could see she didn't truly understand.

"We're only human," he told her, "Even the FBI makes mistakes and innocent people pay the price."

SPN

Reid glanced down at his phone when it trilled in his pocket, pausing on the staircase on his way to his apartment.

He smiled. It was a text from Agent Fan.

Sam Winchester was being moved out of the infirmary.

That night, Reid slept soundly, with no worries or nightmares to trouble him.

SPN

A pleasant surprise waited on Aaron Hotchner's desk early the next morning when the Unit Chief unlocked the door to his office.

Mackey's report expertly detailed the differences between the Impala owned by Dean Winchester and the Impala driven by the Leviathans during their killing spree. It outlined the repairs the Winchesters' Impala had had over the years and noted that the Leviathans' Impala was as new as the day it come off of the assembly line. The report confirmed that John Winchester had purchased the brothers' Impala in 1973 and that the Leviathans' Impala had been sitting in a collector's garage for at least twenty-five years before it became the getaway vehicle for a couple of spree killers. Mackey's report even offered a collection of all the DNA and physical evidence in the Winchesters' Impala to prove that it belonged to them and was driven by only them whereas the imposters' Impala did not contain enough evidence to logically conclude that it had belonged to the boys' family since before they were born.

The DNA test results JJ and Prentiss had ordered from St. Louis, along with the original evidence from the crime scenes- including the Warren residence- concluded that Dean Winchester had never been in contact with any of the victims whatsoever. None of the hunter's DNA was found at the houses or on the body in the coffin. The man who had killed all those women and attacked Rebecca Warren may have looked a great deal like Dean Winchester, enough to fool many people who did not know him well, but the DNA testing had not been wrong. The testing could not definitely say who the real killer was, but at least it proved one man innocent of such horrendous crimes.

Even though both Dean and Sam had been in Ms. Warren's house, after the shapeshifter was killed, they made sure to get rid of anything that could be used by the police to pin them to the crimes- vacuuming the house and dumping the bags immediately, wiping down every surface they may have touched, etc. leaving only the dead creature with Dean's face as evidence of the crime so that Zach could be released.

W

Within minutes of taking a seat behind his desk and sending messages to his team to join him in his office, his coworkers surrounded Aaron.

"We should do this soon," JJ said, "It may take a while to convince Strauss and Davis."

Aaron nodded in agreement.

"We need to make sure Lamb is here though," he added, "He has to be involved."

"I can find out," Reid offered and sent a text to Agent Fan, asking her were her team leader was. Almost instantly he received a reply:

STRAUSS' OFFICE. BEEN IN THERE ALL MORNING. HOPPING MAD ABOU SOMETHING.

The young doctor read the text out loud to his teammates.

"Well, he's about to be even more pissed once Hotch and JJ go in there," Morgan commented with a smug smile.

"Let's head there now," Aaron spoke to the blonde agent, "Strauss can call Davis when we need him."

JJ nodded and put her game-face on. Hotch gathered the pile of evidence and reports from his desk, tucked them under his arm and headed for the door.

No one said anything. It seemed silly to wish the two agents luck; if they had done their jobs correctly, the evidence would speak for itself.

"I don't know about you," Rossi said slowly once Aaron and JJ were heading down the hallway towards Erin Strauss' office, "But I'd like a good seat for this show and I can't see a damn thing from here."

Chuckling, the others agreed and made their way down to the bullpen, sitting at their desks and keeping their eyes on the door to the Section Chief's office.

"How long do you think they'll be in there?" Reid asked.

"Don't know," Rossi commented, "Could take a while."

"Does anyone want some coffee while we wait?" Prentiss asked.

W

Ten minutes after taking their seats at their desks, the agents watched as Deputy Director Jeffrey Davis stepped out from the elevators and headed towards Strauss' office, he wasn't smiling.

"Let's hope he's in a listening mood today," Rossi muttered and took a sip from his mug of coffee.

W

Thirty minutes later the team could hear the distinct- and positively glorious- sound of Agent Carter Lamb shouting.

It wasn't only the rest of Hotchner's team that could hear the agent's loud indignation either, others sitting in the bullpen looked up from their computers or paperwork to stare in the direction from which the noise was coming from.

Morgan grinned, "I guess JJ and Hotch did it."

The team looked up as a door was shoved open so hard it bounced off the opposite wall and Agent Lamb came stalking down the corridor, his face tomato red and his hands balled into fists.

"This is atrocious!" he shouted back towards Strauss' office, "I'll go to the director himself if I have to!"

Continuing down the hallway, he noticed all the agents in the bullpen staring openly.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" he nearly shrieked, "Get back to work!", and turned into his office, slamming the door so hard the pane of pebbled glass cracked.

The team burst into laughter and stood up, waiting for JJ and Hotch to return as they were given uneasy looks by their coworkers.

"I can't believe we actually did it," Reid said, "I can't believe we actually help prove the Winchesters' innocence."

Morgan smiled, "Of course we did, Kid. We're the best at what we do."

"I'm going to let Garcia in on the good news," Prentiss told them and called their favourite Technical Analyst.

"What can I do for you, my black-haired beauty?" Garcia asked when she answered the phone.

"We have great news!" Prentiss told her, "JJ and Hotch won! Sam and Dean are going to be freed!"

The quirky Tech Analyst screamed as though she had just found out she'd won the lottery.

"I knew you guys could do it! Oh that's fantastic!"

"We'll keep you posted, Baby Girl," Morgan leaned over to the phone and told her.

"My hero," Garcia cooed and Derek chuckled.

The team looked up at the sounds of footsteps and saw Hotch and JJ coming down the hallway, smiling, with Davis and Strauss right behind them.

SPN

Deputy Director Jeffrey Davis felt embarrassed for his organization. The FBI and the BAU itself strove to capture criminals- people guilty of horrible crimes- not innocent men. With all the advances in criminology and testing of organic evidence materials, it seemed unthinkable that an innocent person could be charged with crimes and imprisoned. Unfortunately though, such things still happened.

At least with the Winchesters, the brothers hadn't even left Quantico yet. Far too many convicted killers- whom judge and jury had believed to be guilty- had spent years of their lives in prison or, worse, had been sentenced to death, with no one believing them when they claimed they were innocent.

Davis glanced at Erin from the corner of his eye and noticed how frazzled she looked. This didn't look good for the Behavioral Analysis Unit or the FBI in general. They would have to speak to the Director about this mistake, they'd have to make up written reports, and there may even be a formal inquest as a result. Davis was not looking forward to that. He had enough on his plate already.

Following Agents Hotchner and Jareau to the elevators, the Deputy Director shook his head. This whole misunderstanding was humiliating for the organization but what was more, Agent Lamb's actions in the Winchesters' case would have to be analyzed and possibly even his actions in previous cases as well. The man certainly wouldn't get away scott-free after what he'd done to two innocent men. He was just grateful things hadn't gone too far as to have irreversible consequences.

SPN

Erin Strauss struggled to keep her composure, something she rarely had to do, as she prided herself on her professional if somewhat cold demeanor. She fought to reconcile the idea in her mind that monsters- real monsters- existed. In the ten minutes before the Deputy Director's arrival at her office, SSA Jareau and Hotchner had informed her of the Winchesters' innocence and explained who- and what- the real murderers were. The agents had told her about the case they had worked on with the Winchester brothers in Miller's Falls, Pennsylvania. A case, which involved a real monster, a hag known as Black Annis, who had been killing the residents of the small town and eating their internal organs. Until that moment, the BAU had considered the murders in Miller's Falls to be the work of a cannibalistic serial killer- that was what the team had even put into their paperwork- and now to hear the truth was devastating.

Jennifer Jareau and Aaron Hotchner had asked if they should inform the Deputy Director of the existence of monsters but Erin had advised them against doing such a thing. Deputy Director Davis would already have more than enough to deal with as a result of this Winchester fiasco and didn't need the knowledge that monsters roamed the land to hang over him. Also, Erin wanted to keep that information to herself, as much as she could, on a need-to-know basis, as it were, feeling as though it could be useful for her and only her to know.

SPN

Heading towards the area of the building where prisoners awaiting trial or extradition to other States were held, Davis indicated that the security guard should give over his keys.

"Are you sure, Deputy Director?" the man asked, despite being ordered by an authority figure.

Davis nodded, "I'll return them on our way out."

The guard shrugged and handed over the keys, deciding that Davis knew what he was doing.

Taking the lead, Davis walked down the hallway lined with cells, keys jingling in his hand.

Dean Winchester's cell was easy to find- there were very few people locked up at the moment- and the hunter approached the front of his cell with a suspicious expression on his face.

"Who the fuck are you now?" he demanded.

"My name is Jeffrey Davis," Davis answered, calmly. Dean Winchester had every right to be pissed off, "I'm the Deputy Director of the FBI."

The hunter took a step back and his expression turned to one of uncertainty, "Is this it, then?"

Davis shook his head, and sensed Hotchner, Jareau and Strauss behind him. He saw that Dean noticed the trio and a hopeful spark entered his eyes.

"There's been a terrible mistake," Davis told him, "Agents Jareau and Hotchner have shown us proof that you and your brother are innocent."

Dean Winchester smiled at the two agents.

"You guys are the best."

"I'd like to apologize on behalf of the BAU and the FBI," Davis continued and unlocked the cell door, "Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

"Take me to Sammy," Dean replied instantly.

The Deputy Director nodded and moved out of the way so the hunter could exit the cell. He shook hands with Dean and watched as the man moved back to where the BAU agents stood. Agent Strauss, as stuck-up as she was, simply tipped a nod to the hunter.

"Thank you," Dean told them, putting a hand on Aaron's shoulder before turning to JJ and kissing her on the cheek.

As the group moved quickly down the hallway, Dean hung back with the two agents, speaking with them in quiet tones too low for Davis to hear. As soon as they approached the cell where the younger Winchester was however, Dean moved forward and grabbed the bars, peering in at his sibling with a concerned look.

"Sammy," he called to his brother.

The younger man was sitting on the cot, legs tented with his forearms resting against his knees, head down low. As soon as he heard his brother's voice though, Sam Winchester looked up and his eyes widened.

"They came through for us, Sammy," Dean told him, smiling, "We're getting out of here."

Davis unlocked the cell and Dean pushed past him to go directly to his brother. He watched as the older Winchester crouched down and cupped his sibling's face in his hands.

"How're you doing, Sammy?" he heard Dean murmur, "How you holding up?"

Davis, normally not a sentimental man, felt a lump in his throat at the sight of the two siblings and suddenly thought of his own younger sibling, his sister whom he loved dearly.

"Sam Winchester," he spoke up, clearing his throat and the hunter took his gaze away from his sibling to look at him, "I'd like to apologize for what's happened to you and for the way Agent Carter Lamb treated you. Rest assured he will be reprimanded for his actions."

Dean snorted, "He better get a kick in the teeth. That's what he needs."

Davis gave a wry smile. He'd never liked the overzealous agent and decided that the man wouldn't be involved in seeking out and capturing killers for a long, long time.

Sam nodded but then returned his gaze back to his brother.

"You can leave," Davis told both Winchesters, "And will not be held accountable for any of the crimes you were accused of. You get a clean slate."

"Do either of you have any questions?" the Deputy Director asked.

Dean turned to look at him, "Yeah, can we get our clothes back? Orange just isn't my colour, you know?"

Davis smiled, "Your belongings are in evidence but we can return them to you. There is a locker room employees use; will that be all right?"

Dean nodded and stood up, Sam doing the same and towering over his brother.

SPN

Dean shook his head, "I can't believe they actually managed to convince anyone that we're innocent. Those agents must have silver tongues."

Sam smiled as he unzipped his duffel bag, searching for some clean clothes.

The brothers were standing in the men's' change room, a large area composed of one wall of toilet stalls, one of urinals, and a third of sinks and mirrors. The middle had double rows of lockers on either side of a long bench like those found in high school locker rooms. The floors were made of dark grey tiles and the walls were painted a dusty blue; very masculine and professional looking. The entire space smelled strongly of urinal cakes and pine-scented cleaning fluid. The hunters were alone in the room.

Dean unabashedly unzipped his orange jumpsuit and let it fall around his ankles so that he was only clad in his boxers.

"Man, it'll feel good to wear real clothes again," he muttered to himself as he pulled a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt from his duffel bag.

Sam, normally shyer about changing in public than Dean, unzipped his own jumpsuit and let it land around his ankles the way his brother had done, wiggling his feet slightly to dislodge the garment before kicking it away.

Dean watched his brother for a moment with mild amusement until he saw the scar on Sam's right shoulder. The jagged wound covered in scar tissue was red and irritated- swollen- looking.

Instantly the older sibling was at his brother's side, one hand on Sam's upper arm to keep him still while the other poked and prodded at the scar.

"Jesus, Sam! What have you been doing to it?" Dean demanded to know.

Sam pulled out of Dean's hold and grew defensive.

"Its helping keep Lucifer away," he barked, "It helped when… when you weren't there."

Dean lowered his hands and sighed, "I'm sorry, Sam."

"I… I couldn't take it," his brother muttered, pulling an olive green t-shirt on, "I tried the hand thing but it doesn't work anymore. I thought that if it had worked with that scar than maybe the one from the Leviathan bite would work too."

"You don't have to explain, Sammy," Dean told him, "It helped keep that bastard away, I get it. I just… I don't like the thought of you having to hurt yourself to do it."

Sam didn't say anything but his gaze lowered in an expression of shame.

"Hey," Dean said suddenly, "I'm here now, so you don't have to do that anymore. I'll keep that son a bitch away."

Sam looked up at his brother and smiled slightly. They finished dressing in silence.

W

Guiding his brother through the sterile corridors of Quantico, Dean found the way back to the bullpen, where the teams in the BAU worked. As soon as he and his brother stepped into the large circular area, they were accosted by a happy team, all wanting to hug them or shake their hands.

"We didn't do anything," Dean told them as Penelope Garcia kissed him on the cheek, "You guys did all the work."

"We're just happy to see you looking more like yourselves," the Tech Analyst told him, "Orange is a colour only meant for pumpkins."

Dean smiled, "Where's that other one? Agent Fan?"

The team didn't know.

"Probably handing in a Request for Transfer form to Strauss," Morgan told him.

As though she'd heard the commented, Erin Strauss exited her office and walked to the edge of the balcony overlooking the bullpen.

"Dean Winchester, may I speak with you in my office?" she called.

The hunter frowned and looked at the agents. They looked around as puzzled as he was.

"You okay here, Sammy?" he asked his brother and received a nod.

"I won't be long," Dean promised and headed up the ramp that led to the offices from the bullpen.

Maybe she wants to apologize personally or something, Dean thought once he'd reached Strauss and she turned without a word, heading back towards he office.

Dean glanced over his shoulder to see his brother sitting at Dr. Reid's desk, still surrounded by the team in what seemed like a protective formation. Dean smiled, knowing that his brother would be all right in the time it took the Section Chief to tell him whatever it was she needed to say.

Following the woman into her office, Dean was told to close the door and he did so, taking a seat in the chair across from her desk.

"I know you all want to give your heartfelt apologizes for what happened with Agent Asswipe and all that," Dean began before Strauss could even open her mouth, "But Sam and I will just be happy if we never see this place again."

Strauss waited, her expression slightly impatient, before clearing her throat.

"Here at the Behavioral Analysis Unit, we pride ourselves on having the highest success rate when it comes to solving crimes and capturing criminals," Strauss began.

Dean waited patiently for the apology part.

"Unfortunately, despite our high success rate, we do not have a hundred percent success. There are many cases that go unsolved, either from lack of evidence, no clear suspect or because they are just too… let us say unusual, and cannot be completed by our agents."

Dean frowned. This didn't sound like an apology.

"After some though," the Section Chief continued, "I believe that a number of our unsolved cases are unsolved because they involve not human killers but monsters. Now, we here at the BAU don't have experience with werewolves or vampires or ghosts or what have you so many families go without really knowing what happened to their loved ones, sometimes for months or even years."

Dean's frowned deepened. He didn't like where this was going.

"You, however, have a lifetime's worth of experience dealing with the supernatural and I believe that many of these cases we have could be closed if you decided to pursue them."

Dean's eyes widened in surprise. Was this woman really asking if he'd help solve all the unsolved cases they had just because she thought they might be a result of monsters?

"With all due respect, Lady, my brother and I are not for sale. We are not anyone's lap dogs. We don't work for anyone."

Strauss looked nonplussed.

"Your brother is a very ill man," she told him, "It would be a shame if you could no longer care for him and he was taken into the State's hands."

Dean's eyes narrowed, "Are you threatening me?"

"Of course not," the Section Chief assured him, "I am simply telling you what will happen if you do not agree to work with us when we need you, that's all. Your brother will be taken away so that he could be cared for by professionals and you won't see him again."

Dean stood up suddenly, leaning over the desk intimidatingly. His green eyes glared into Strauss' blue ones but the woman did not even blink.

"I've looked into the eyes of real serial killers," she told him, "Don't think you can scare me."

"I am not asking you to stay here," Strauss continued, "To wear a suit and tie and join a team. I am asking you to come and help if we have a case no one else can solve."

"Oh, well, if you put it that way," Dean remarked snidely, "Than of course, that sounds lovely!"

"I am not afraid to do what I have to in order to keep up this organization's good name," Strauss warned, "Even if it means destroying lives to do so."

Dean couldn't tell if she was bluffing or not. He decided that, for Sam's sake, he didn't want to find out.

"Fine," he said, "Have it your way, Lady. But if you put one finger on my brother- or have any of your goons do that either- I just might really become a convicted killer."

Strauss didn't deign to respond. Reaching into her desk, she brought out a plain white business card held between her index and middle fingers.

"Take my card," she told Dean.

The hunter shook his head, "I have Agent Morgan's number."

Turning, Dean left the office before the Section Chief could say anything else. Composing himself before his brother or the agents could see him, Dean put a smile on his face.

"What did Strauss want?" JJ asked.

Dean shrugged, "Oh, you know, she just wanted to say how sorry she was about all this."

Moving to his brother, the elder Winchester crouched down in front of him, "What do you say we get out of here?"

SPN

Sam smiled at the sight of the Impala, her black paint shining under fluorescent lights, looking almost brand new.

Sam's smile widened as Dean ran a hand over the car's hood before he bent down to kiss it.

"I've missed you, Baby," he heard his brother murmur, as though to a long lost lover.

Dean accepted the Chevy's keys from Mackey, the BAU's automotive technician, and unlocked the car.

Dropping their duffel bags into the trunk, Dean climbed in behind the steering wheel while Sam took shotgun.

A tapping of glass and Dean rolled down the side window.

"Will we see you again?" Dr. Reid asked; voicing the question the entire team wanted to know.

"You just might," Dean replied, and rolled the window back up as the agent stepped back.

Glancing to the box of cassettes sitting in the foot well of the passenger's side, Dean asked his brother to put one into the player.

Sam obliged, simply happy to be back in the Impala, not caring at all about the classic rock about to blare from the Chevy's speakers.

Mackey opened one of the large garage doors that allowed vehicles to be moved into and out of the building, and Dean turned the key in the Impala's ignition, grinning at the sound of her familiar purr.

Sam smiled and leaned his head back, closing his eyes as the car began to move forward and the first quiet chord's of Lynyrd Skynyrd's 'Freebird' began playing.

"Let's get some real food, Sammy," Dean said as he drove out of the garage and into the parking area, bright sunlight slanting through the windshield, "I'm thinking McDonald's."

Sam opened his eyes and nodded, agreeing that McDonald's was a good choice.

Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you - Jean-Paul Sartre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from an Alice Cooper song.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me and read this third installment of this series. I have plans for one more story to finish up this 'verse and then I want to delve into a bit of an AU crossing over these two shows again. I really enjoy the crossovers with Criminal Minds and Supernatural, I think they lend themselves well to this type of fanfic and I am excited to explore the creative opportunities in the future.
> 
> Please take a moment out of your busy schedules- life can be extremely hectic, I know- to show some love and leave Kudos or a Comment. Either or all would be greatly appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Fanfic title comes from a Gobsmack song.
> 
> Chapter title comes from a Bullet For My Valentine song.
> 
> This story came from a prompt sent to me by SkyHighFan who wanted to see a crossover where Sam and Dean's escape and survival after 'Slash Fiction' (Season 7, Episode 6) is revealed to the authorities and the BAU team is assigned to capture them. Hotchner and the others are instead trying to clear the boys' names and prove their innocence without revealing that they have worked with the Winchesters in the past.
> 
> I have changed the plot slightly. Instead of Angent Hotchner and the rest of the team being forced to find and arrest Sam and Dean, a different team from the BAU is charged with bringing the brothers in.


End file.
